Ginny's Fourth Year
by Lowlands Girl
Summary: [Pre OotP] The summer after Ginny's third year begins with The Talk from her mother, Harry and Hermione come to visit the Burrow, and at first it looks like she's going to have as normal a year as one can have with Voldemort around...
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes**: I wrote this before Order of the Phoenix, uploaded it to and then when I had the edited version finished just this month, I did the incredibly intelligent thing of deleting the original story. So I've lost all my old reviews, which makes me very sad, but all that means is that you dear readers must leave plenty to make up for it! And… off you go!

**Chapter One: The Beginning of Things**

Ginny sighed as she heard her door creak open. She peeked a glance at the clock, trying to pretend to be asleep. "Too early for Saturday," it read.

"Ginny, dear?"

It was her mother. The indomitable Mrs. Weasley, come to try and get a good mother-daughter talk in before the rest of the family woke up for breakfast. Not that Ginny really resented it; being the only girl in the family did mean that she and Mrs. Weasley had that "unique bond" that women can have.

Ginny mumbled something as incoherently as she could. As much as she did love her mother, she just didn't want to talk right now. First day back from Hogwarts, feeling that press of family presence--she just needed a little more time, a little more space.

The bed sagged as Mrs. Weasley sat down and put an arm on Ginny's back.

"Ginny? Ginny, come downstairs for some tea. Let's talk."

Ginny sighed again. She knew from past experience that her mother would not leave until she rolled over and said that she'd be down in a minute. Of course, when she'd been a few years younger, it hadn't seemed so intrusive. She rolled, slightly reluctantly. "Let me brush my teeth, Mum."

Molly Weasley patted Ginny on the shoulder and left her. Ginny rolled further over to search for her slippers, slid out of bed, and made for the bathroom. Once she'd locked the door--who knew when Ron would barge in, never knocking--she slipped off her nightdress and examined herself in the mirror. Puberty was treating her pretty well, she decided. The few pimples she'd had before final exams last term were fading, and her breasts were definitely there. _Still a little gangly_, she thought, appraising her reflection. _Oh, well, you can't have everything. I'd rather not have bigger breasts if it means having pimples._

She brushed her teeth, used the toilet, washed her hands, and made her way downstairs, where Mrs. Weasley was pouring two cups of breakfast tea and setting out some scones. Ginny halted in the doorway.

"What's the occasion, Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Scones." Ginny pointed, walking over to the table. "We never have scones in the morning. You told me when I was nine that they were expensive to make every day..."

"Oh, I thought just this one time, dear. Your first day back and everything... Special occasion..." Mrs. Weasley's casual tone of voice didn't deceive Ginny.

"Mum, what's up?" Oh, no, thought Ginny. This had better not be The Talk.

"Well, dear... I was noticing in the laundry last night...your underthings..." Mrs. Weasley was definitely not looking at her daughter. "Your body is changing, and, well." She finally looked up. "I thought we should talk without the boys around," she finished firmly.

"Oh, Mum, is this about my period and sex and all that?" It is The Talk, thought Ginny with growing unease.

Molly Weasley looked distinctly startled at the word "sex." "Well, yes, it is. I was talking with your father last night, and we---"

Ginny felt her face go red. "You told Dad about this?" So much for keeping the boys out of this! It was okay for Mum to know, but Dad?

"Your father and I have been wondering for several years now when you would mature, and now that it's happened, there's some advice I wanted to give you." Mrs. Weasley seemed to be steeling herself for the coming awkwardness.

"Mum, I know all about the plumbing--insert tab A into slot B and all that, and I know that I shouldn't have sex until I'm married."

"No, dear, it isn't the plumbing I wanted to tell you about--goodness, you have six brothers, I figured you'd have seen them naked enough to know what happens--it's, well, it's _boys_."

"Huh?"

"Boys will notice you now, Ginny. You must have noticed it."

Ginny thought--the Yule Ball, the way Neville, who did step on her feet often, had stammered to her, "Y--you look nice, Ginny," as she entered the common room, even in her horribly second-hand dress robes. His eyes had distinctly traveled up and down her figure before, almost shocked at himself, he had offered her his arm. Ginny pulled herself back to the present.

"--was so happy when you owled about getting dress robes for the Yule Ball, Ginny," her mother was saying. "Finally getting to dress up! And that Longbottom boy is such a nice young man, I didn't worry." Mrs. Weasley frowned. "But other boys will notice you, dear, and they won't be so gentlemanly." Her cheeks were going distinctly pink as she chose her next words, but she retained eye contact with her daughter. "I just want you to be careful, Ginny. Don't let your desires get in the way of your intelligence, and always use a contraceptive."

That last had thrown her for a loop. "Wha--?"

"There are a few useful spells that aren't generally taught until much later, and most certainly not at Hogwarts, which I wanted to give you for when you made your choice."

Ginny was still staring. "My choice?" she stammered. Was her mother actually telling her to go and have sex? She was fourteen, for heavens' sake! All she really wanted was a good kiss--not that embarrassed cheek-bump that Neville had done after the Ball, but a good, solid, tongue-in-the-mouth-bodies-pressed-together-sweaty-palms kiss. Just thinking about it made her tingle in new regions. Sex was something still foreign to her. Oh, she did know the logistics of it, but getting naked with a guy was something creepy.

"Ginny? Are you listening?"

"Mum!" she finally found her tongue. "I don't know if--" _I want to know this right now_, she wanted to say, but trailed off at the determined look on her mother's face. "er... okay... I guess..."

"Good!" Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together and took her wand off the countertop. "As a young girl, I didn't really believe in these, but those were the old days, when girls got married at nineteen and had their first child by twenty... But after you came along, I realized I was getting a little old for this and, especially with your father being held back at the Ministry by Fudge and our income not growing... ah, well." She sighed distantly. "The first spell is Contraceptio..."

It wasn't until Harry came to visit that Ginny began to understand the wisdom of her mother's talk. His meeting with Voldemort--she forced herself to think the name out loud, no matter how terrifying it was--seemed to have aged him somewhat. His green eyes--"as green as a fresh-pickled toad" came the words from her first year Valentine--seemed less sparkling now, and more appraising of the world around him. It was as though he was seeing everything and filing it away for future reference, not just letting the visions slide over him. Although she knew he'd been through hell--he'd told them everything on the train ride back--and that he had nightmares--the first night of his visit, she heard him yelling wordlessly in terror, and heard her mother creeping as silently as the house could manage up the stairs to Ron's attic room--there was something very alluring about him. It wasn't simply the "Omigod, it's Harry Potter" experience of her first three years at Hogwarts; it was... it was... well, he was more mature than any other boy she knew. Ron only cared about Quidditch, and, while he wasn't exactly a class clown the way Fred and George were, he never acted particularly intelligently. Especially not with Hermione there, too.

Hermione's parents had agreed to let her come and stay with the Weasleys again this summer, for the last two weeks of the holidays. She and Ginny were staying in the same room, which meant late-night gossip sessions about boys and, sometimes, Voldemort and the disturbing news which their parents tried to shield them from but failed.

On the first evening Hermione was there, Ginny made her tell about Krum and the visit to Bulgaria.

"It was loads of fun," Hermione said. "But it wasn't all that romantic, really. Really!" she added to Ginny's raised eyebrows. "I mean, not in the sense of romance. We kissed a few times..."

Ginny giggled uncontrollably. "What was it like?" she asked, unbearably curious. "I've only been kissed by Neville, and, you know..."

Hermione let out a snort. "What was that like?" she asked, still chuckling.

"He kinda bumped my cheek with his nose, and ran."

Hermione guffawed. "That sounds like Neville."

"What was it like with Krum?" asked Ginny eagerly.

"Well... it was... it was nice," Hermione began slowly. "I didn't really let him put his tongue in my mouth--it was really gross the one time he did--but we just kissed lips to lips. It's nice, it feels good." For once the older girl seemed at a loss for words.

"What else?"

"Oh, we went on walks, held hands, flew together in the mountains--"

"What, on the same broomstick?"

"Once, yes." Hermione shuddered. "I got sick... we thought that it would be better if I had my own broom--like the way the driver never gets carsick."

Ginny was lost for a minute. _Must be a Muggle thing._ They'd covered the existence of cars in Muggle Studies, but she hadn't come across carsick yet. _I'll ask Dad._ Hermione was still talking.

"...so he lent me his old Nimbus 2001 and we flew around the lakes and the countryside. It's nice up there, since there are so few Muggles that we don't have to fear being seen, unlike here. I got to actually like flying, and so Krum let me keep his old broom--that was really nice of him. And we went to a nearby city. Because there's so much local village witchcraft historically, we didn't really have to conceal that much. His parents could buy potions ingredients and dress however they wanted without being noticed. Really different from Britain."

Hermione sounded to Ginny as though the social studies of Bulgaria had been worth more than the walks with Krum. She asked Hermione.

"Well, I guess it was about half and half," she said honestly. "Krum is nice and very gentlmanly--he never once tried to touch my breasts, actually--but the differences in culture were really fascinating! I wrote an extra essay for Binns' Eastern European Wizarding History assignment based on the market stall arrangements, which apparently are the same as they were 2000 years ago--" Hermione seemed about to launch into a lecture, so Ginny mentioned the time and hastily pretended to be tired. Whether Hermione was fooled or simply got the hint, Ginny could never figure out.

Next morning the amusements began. When the two girls came down to breakfast, Ron and Harry were already there, reading their Hogwarts letters. "Morning, mum," said Ginny by way of announcement.

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione.

Ron looked up and accidentally put his elbow in the butter dish. No one noticed but Ginny, fortunately, and she hid her smirk as Ron hastily wiped his elbow clean.

Mr. Weasley, looking exhausted from the past week at the Ministry, handed Ginny and Hermione their letters. Hermione's was considerably thicker than everyone else's. Probably a prefect letter, Ginny thought, unsurprised. Opening her own letter, she saw that it had the usual information about the Hogwarts Express, in addition to a new booklist:

Fourth year students will require:  
_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ by Owen Grate  
_A Longue and Exhaustingue Surveye of Magicall Anti-dotes_, edited by Vince Zabini

Ginny breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. She still remembered her first year at Hogwarts, when purchasing that incredibly long list of new books had meant second-hand robes and Bill's old wand. Even with Harry giving her the Lockhart books, her mother still hadn't been able to get much. With only three new books, all of which could easily be found used, things would be a bit easier.

She glanced at Hermione, who was looking very happy, holding a sheet of parchment that looked suspiciously like a prefect letter. Ginny could see the gleam of metal in the envelope that meant there was a badge in there. Ron and Harry were looking up, too.

"Did they make you a Prefect?" asked Ron, sounding slightly disgusted but at the same time happy for her.

"Yes, they did," breathed Hermione. "Ooh, this is wonderful. There's a long letter here about all the privileges that Prefects get--extended library hours and book loan periods! And I get my own room, too--that'll be nice for studying for my O.W.L.s..."

Ginny could see Ron's ears perk up at "my own room, too." When he saw her looking, those ears went red. She smiled inwardly.

"Goodness, Hermione, all you've done for the past four years is study!" Ron exlaimed to cover his sudden interest. "Aren't you ever going to relax?"

Hermione dropped her letter angrily. "Ron, O.W.L.s are really important! How you do on them can determine your entire future! Besides--"

"All right, Hermione!" Ron exlaimed, a little taken aback at her vehemence. He went back to his porridge.

Hermione sniffed and continued reading her letter, but silently. Her ears were slightly pink, too.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other and grinned. This was going to be an interesting year, Ginny thought, feeling definitely too happy to see Harry smiling.

"Well, I guess we'll be going to Diagon Alley today," announed Mrs. Weasley, as Fred and George came into the kitchen to get their letters. "Arthur, can you come?"

"Sorry, Molly--I should go into work. Fudge said something yesterday afternoon about 'You should all have a nice relaxing weekend, stay home...' that made me a bit suspicious."

"D'you reckon something's up?" Ron asked eagerly.

"I don't know, honestly," replied Mr. Weasley. "I just want to make sure that he doesn't overstep his boundaries. Dumbledore--" he broke off at a look from Mrs. Weasley.

"What?" all six people at the table asked together.

"Nothing, nothing..." mumbled Mr. Weasley, but Ginny saw that his ears were distinctly pink. He was hiding something, and she was sure it had to be about You-Know--oh, all right! Voldemort.

They arrived in Diagon Alley around mid-morning, without losing Harry this time to Floo Powder. First stop was Gringotts, awkward as it always was. Ginny didn't blame Harry for having money, nor did she particularly blame her parents for not having money. They never went hungry, like the homeless she'd read about in Muggle Studies. And she'd learned enough glamour and illusion charms after her embarrassing first year to keep herself looking fairly tidy, despite the second-hand clothes.

As they made their way back down the alley, having separated outside the bank (Mrs. Weasley grabbed both Fred and George, determined not to let them out of her sight), Ginny waved to a few people from Hogwarts--Colin Creevey, of course, with his perpetual camera, Neville, being told off by his grandmother for losing his booklist, and Ingrid Tuee, Mela Schwartz, and Zoe Campbell, her fellow fourth-year Gryffindors. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't objected to her joining them, so she followed them into Florean Fortescue's, where Harry bought them all cherry-and-honeycomb ice creams. They ate them on their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the boys ogled over the new Firebolt Two--"price on request."

"Wonder if you'll get that one as a gift, too?" said Ron, looking sideways at Harry. "Siri..." he broke off at a look from Hermione, who jerked her head towards Ginny. _Wonder what they're keeping from me this time?_

"You like Quidditch, too, Ginny?" asked Harry.

"A little..." she began, a little shyly. "It's a lot of fun to watch."

"Ginny used to play Seeker in our family games," said Ron, much to Ginny's amazement. Since when had he ever mentioned that to anyone?

"I'm not that good," mumbled Ginny.

"C'mon Ginny, you were okay."

"Why haven't you tried out for Gryffindor?" asked Harry, who then flushed as everyone stared at him pointedly. "Oh."

After a moment, the boys went inside to look at robes, leaving the two girls outside. "Shall we just ditch them?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Oh...I don't know..." Hermione's eyes peered in, following Ron's horrible Chudley Cannons hat.

"Come on, they'll catch up with us in the bookstore." And Hermione let herself be pulled away.

"So where's Percy?" asked Hermione.

"He and Dad had a big argument about You-Know.. sorry, Voldemort. I know Harry's trying to get us all to say his name, but it's tough." Hermione nodded.

"They argued?" she prompted.

"Yeah. Percy got really upset when Dad wouldn't accept Fudge's official statements about the whole Tri-Wizard Tournament thing, and Crouch's death, and all that. I have the newpaper clippings at home, you can look at them when we get back. Anyways, they had this big row, and Percy said that he wasn't coming home until Dad came to his senses."

"He left?" Hermione mouth hung open, revealing those now-very-straight teeth.

"Yeah. I mean, he is nineteen--almost twenty, actually--so he's old enough to find his own flat. I think it's actually not too far from here. Mum checks up on him every week or so, but he's never happy to see her, I hear. I went with her once." Ginny paused for a moment remembering Percy's complete inacceptance of the fact that she, too, believed Harry's story about the night Cedric died.

_"How can you be so... so..."_

_"Honest with myself?" she'd replied. Percy had sighed._

_"Ginny, Mr. Fudge"--she'd had to keep from giggling at that title--"would have made an announcement if You-Know-Who were back. I see no reason not to trust the man in charge of the entire magical community!"_

_"What about Hagrid?" she'd shot back, a little too forcefully. "My first year!"_

_"A perfectly understandable mistake, Ginny!" he'd replied pompously. "Look at Hagrid's history--and look at his blood! Half-giant!"_

_"You were quick enough to like him when you were at Hogwarts!"_

_Mrs. Weasley had come back out of the bathroom at that point and they'd stopped arguing._

Ginny realized Hermione was waiting for her to continue. "The flat is really small, but he keeps it ridiculously clean--at least when we're there. He hasn't disowned his name yet, fortunately, and Dad thinks he'll come to his senses at some point. Although I do like not having him at home," she admitted.

The girls walked silently for a minute, and eventually paused in front of Eeylops' Owl Emporium.

"That grey one is beautiful, don't you think?" asked Hermione, to break the silence.

Ginny agreed. Then she voiced the question that had been bothering her since breakfast. "Hermione, do you like Harry?"

"What?" asked Hermione, turning to face her. "Of course I like Harry, he's my friend. We've been friends ever since that troll incident our first year..." she broke off at the look on Ginny's face. "Oh, you mean do I like him!" she giggled. "No, he's all yours."

Ginny felt her face turn scarlet and her heart shoot into her throat. "Is it that--that--obvious?" she managed after a moment.

"At least to me."

"Does Harry know?" Ginny asked in a small voice, turning to look again at the grey owl, who knew nothing of her old imagined romances with the famous Harry Potter, and now her inexplicable, yet simpler, desires to be near him.

"I think so."

Ginny sighed, watching the owl open one yellow eye to regard her imperiously, then fall back asleep, its head under its wing. "Do I have a chance against all the other girls?" she asked wistfully.

"Well... to be absolutely honest, your only other real competition is Cho. I have Arithmancy with her, and before she and Cedric were together," Hermione paused sadly, "well, before the Yule Ball, she used to ask me a lot of questions about Harry. But I don't know exactly how much Harry feels for her..."

Ginny breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank goodness Hermione was honest. "I just thought that, because he's, y'know, famous, that he'd, well... have too many other girls liking him to pay attention to me." There was the crux of it, she'd finally said it.

"I really don't think you need to worry too much," said Hermione firmly. "Just let him get to know you more." She fell silent, and they continued wandering down the alley toward the bookstore.

"He's changed," said Ginny after a while.

"You mean, since Voldemort?"

"Yeah. He's--I don't know--more serious, more concentrated." They passed Madam Malkin's, and Ginny eyed the light green robes in the window for a moment before telling herself a firm no. Mum had given her some money for her books and supplies, and, as much as the dress robes looked perfect, they would eat into her budget.

"I know what you mean," said Hermione, looking at some lavender robes. Ginny could see the older girl doing the same mental dialogue that she'd just done.

"Wonder if there'll be a Yule Ball this year?" Ginny asked.

"Hmm..."

At that point the boys caught up with them. "You looking at clothing?" said Ron derisively to Ginny.

"You should talk! You just spent twenty minutes looking at clothing!"

"We did not!"

"What do you call Quidditch robes?"

Harry laughed. "She's right, Ron, give it up."

_He has changed_, thought Ginny. _Last year he would have argued back._

"I think the lavender would look good on Hermione, don't you, Ron?" Ginny asked, half-seriously.

"Yeah, it would," replied Ron, obviously without thinking. He blushed as he remembered that everyone was there. "I mean, anything would..." Insert foot A into mouth B, thought Ginny, barely controlling her snigger.

Hermione blushed too. "The green would look good on Ginny, wouldn't it, Harry?" she asked over Harry's guffaw.

"Um..." Harry looked at Ginny. She looked back, fully aware that she wasn't blushing, and that his eyes were tracing her figure. "It would. Go with your complexion." Was that appreciation in his eyes? She hoped so.

They made it to Flourish and Blotts without Ron's feet getting completely to his stomach. Just halfway, she thought, making a note to talk to Ron if she could before term started. After a relatively uneventful time purchasing their books and Harry insisting that he treat them to a dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, they Floo'd back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: More Talk and the Hogwarts Express**

Ginny got her chance to talk to Ron later that evening. Hermione had gone to shower, and Ron came up the stairs at just the right time.

"Hey!" she called from her doorway.

"What?" he asked, irritably.

"Come here, I want to talk." She saw his eyes flit around the room nervously. "She's bathing. I wanted to talk to you. Sit!" she added, with a touch of Mrs. Weasley.

He sat--on the floor.

"You like Hermione." It wasn't a question.

"Uh..." Ron went pink.

"You do, I know you do. So does everyone else, except her." She ignored Ron's stammers. "I just want you to be careful dealing with her. Push her too much she'll retreat into her studies completely. Give her room and she'll be yours." _Goodness, that__ was corny_, Ginny thought.

"Uhh..." He still hadn't got his tongue. "How did you--how do you know?"

"Well, the biggest clue was probably the way you hated Krum after the Yule Ball, and now you two seem to sunburn very easily in the others' presence."

"She--she likes me too?"

"Enough so that you have a chance." _How dense can you get!_ thought Ginny.

"What about Krum?" Ron sounded so jealous that Ginny had to laugh.

"Long distance relationships don't work in the long run. You're much closer than Krum, and she's known you longer. I honestly don't know what's going to happen with him, but I do know that she likes you as more than a friend--_potentially_, so just be yourself and let her come to you." Another cheap line out of Witch Weekly.

Ginny heard the water shut off as Ron digested this info. Half a minute later, Hermione emerged, wrapped in a towel, her hair hanging limply around her shoulders. Ron's jaw almost dropped, and he sidled out of the room as a very pink--it could have been from the shower, but probably not--Hermione clutched the towel to herself. Ginny pointedly buried herself in her copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, leaving the two of them to figure it out.

The rest of the holiday passed quietly: rumors of attacks on Muggles going ignored in the _Daily Prophet_; her father coming home exhausted each day, tight-lipped about Fudge; Hermione showing Ron and Harry Krum's Nimbus 2001 and flying for a bit, much to their amazement; Ginny borrowing it and playing against Harry, who only narrowly won.

They trooped back down towards the Burrow, sweaty, hot, thirsty, happy, Ron offering to carry Hermione's broom. _Poor guy_, thought Ginny. _He likes Hermione and admires Krum... what a nightmare._

Harry tapped Ginny's elbow, making her jump, then stared at her pointedly as the others drew ahead of them. He didn't say a word, so she simply stood there, waiting for him to make the first move.

When the others were out of hearing, he spoke quietly. "Ginny, I--the last thing I want to do is hurt you or scare you off..." His eyes (_how can they be so green?_) were oddly intense, searching hers for a reaction.

"What do you mean?" _Carefully, carefully, girl._

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, speaking slowly and haltingly. "Last June was--a nightmare. Seeing Voldemort rise again, out of that cauldron--I just always feel, even now, like I'm never going to grow up. Like this day will be my last..." he trailed off, searching Ginny's face.

"Harry, you know that Dumbledore would never let Voldemort near you--"

"It isn't that. I want a life, dammit!" His fists rolled into balls, his eyes squeezed shut, and in the fading light from the sunset Ginny thought she saw tears on his cheeks. "This entire summer I felt like Voldemort was going to suddenly show up on the Dursleys' front porch and hex me into pieces. I don't know if I could survive another duel with him, even if our wands are brothers." Harry's words rolled faster and faster as he kept speaking. "And no one in the wizarding world wants to answer my questions! It just doesn't seem fair..." he choked.

It may have started out as a Mrs. Weasley-esque gesture, but certainly felt like something else. Ginny put her arms around him, holding him to her--never mind that he was six inches taller. He stiffened, then let his arms wrap around her shoulders, squeezing her gently.

For a moment they just stood there, Ginny reveling in the comfort she felt near Harry. Harry eventually stopped shaking enough to draw back. "I'm sorry, Ginny--I never meant to--to burden you..."

"Shh..." she said, reaching up to run her hands through his hair. _It's amazing what you can get away with as an act of comfort_ She drew a hand down his cheek, her finger landing on his lips. He took her hand in his, kissing the finger gently. His mouth worked its own magic as it pressed into her palm--_I think I'm going to faint..._--then down her bare arm to her elbow. _Oh, gods..._

They kissed. Or, more exactly, Harry pulled Ginny closer and let his mouth touch hers, gentle but certain, inexperienced but dead sure of the desire. Ginny wanted to scream in delight. _I kissed Harry Potter!_ cheered her inner fanclub.

Harry shuddered and drew away. "Uhh.."

"What?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Ginny--you're my best friend's little sister--I don't want Ron running after me with a club... Fred and George neither, come to think of it..."

Ginny laughed. "I think Ron would freak out if anyone so much as held my hand. Trust me, he doesn't need to know." She looked up at him coyly. "Can we continue?"

They were on the grass suddenly, lips together, hands tracing out unidentifiable patterns on each other's bodies. In the darkness Ginny could just make out Harry's sillhouette, lying slanted across hers. No fireworks, no candles and soft music, just the two of them, the smell of grass, and a deep-seated happiness permeating her bones.

"Ginny! Harry!"

They groaned. Mrs. Weasley's voice came floating across the hill, breaking their moment.

"Guess we'd better go in..."

They went back down towards the house.

"You'll need to move, boys, for dinner," Mrs. Weasley was saying to Fred and George as Ginny and Harry walked in. She pointed her wand at the cupboard; several plates flew out and landed in a neat pile next to her chopping board.

"Just a minute, Mum," said George absentmindedly.

"What are you two doing, anyway?" asked Mrs. Weasley suspiciously. She came over and picked up the parchment they were both hunched over.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," it read.

"Boys!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "How many times have I told you that I don't want you two wasting your time on this rubbish! You could be revising for your N.E.W.T.s!" And with that, she tossed the parchment into the fire.

Ginny looked at Fred. He looked back at her. That wasn't as bad as usual, his eyes said. And then Ginny realized that her mother hadn't mentioned the word "Ministry."

Harry and Ginny didn't get much time alone together before September 1. But when they were alone together, in a private place, many passionate kisses were be exchanged. They never once spoke of how things were going to work when they got back to Hogwarts, a topic that Ginny really wanted to talk about but never was able to bring up.

So it happened that they got to King's Cross without discussing The Relationship, and that Harry spotted Cho on the platform and forgot about Ginny completely as he went over to talk to her.

_Oh, great,_ thought Ginny miserably. _So I get a Summer Of Love, but the moment he spots Little Miss Ravenclaw Seeker, I'm just his friend's kid sister, great for an easy feel..._

She couldn't quite make out what they were saying through the noise of owls and people, but she saw Cho turn to smile at Harry, who blushed slightly. They seemed to exchange a few pleasantries, and then Cho touched Harry's shoulder gently. Harry stiffened slightly, and Ginny could almost see the sexual tension between the two of them. She felt her anger rising. What was it Harry had said to her when they first kissed? _"I don't want to hurt you, Ginny..."_ Well, this certainly hurt!

She stomped off to find a compartment to herself, ignoring Colin Creevey's inviting wave.

Ginny spent the train ride fuming. Maybe her friends had realized how upset she was, maybe the train had some magic allowing people who wanted to be left alone, left alone, but no one really bothered her--apart from the lady with the tea cart--until she had calmed down enough to take out her spellbooks and study for a while. Hermione tapped on the glass, wearing a concerned expression.

Ginny sighed and put the book down, gesturing for Hermione to come in.

"I had hoped to get through chapter seven--" she began, trying to sound irritated.

Hermione looked at the book. _Numerology and Grammatica._ It was one of Ginny's textbooks for Arithmancy, which she actually quite liked. "Oh, that chapter's actually quite short--it should take only an hour or so to finish, depending on how well you know your Greek symbols, otherwise you'll need to keep referring to chapter five."

"Where they talk about how the Greek mythological characters are related by threes to their opponents?"

"Yes, that chapter--I'd recommend you reread it first, actually."

"Thanks."

They fell silent. Ginny looked at Hermione. Hermione didn't fidget. Ginny waited some more.

"Why was it so hard for me to find you?" Hermione finally asked.

"I wanted to be left alone. I guess the train knew it."

"That would explain why I had to use a Finding Spell on you--I couldn't see you in any of the compartments until I began walking without looking, following the spell."

"Oh."

"So..." Hermione looked at Ginny.

"Yes?" Ginny wasn't sure why she was being so irritable to Hermione. _It's all Harry's fault._

"So, why did you storm off like that?"

Ginny glared. "If you don't know..."

"I have a theory, and I don't like it."

"Do elucidate," Ginny said silkily.

"You saw Harry talking to Cho and somehow that annoyed you," said Hermione flatly.

"Why would that annoy me?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, Ginny! Don't think I didn't notice at the Burrow that whenever you weren't around, neither was Harry! You've been disappearing together--"

"And did you know that the first thing he said to me was, 'The last thing I want to do is hurt you'? Well, this hurts!" Ginny's anger was like a palpable knot in her throat. "The moment he sees Cho, he just goes off, not so much as a 'see you in a minute,' nothing!"

Hermione broke in, "Look, I don't know what he said to Cho, or what their status is. But I do know that Harry is honest and kind, and you should tell him what's going on. He really wouldn't want you to stay angry at him."

"I know!" Ginny wailed helplessly. _Trust Hermione to say exactly what's true._ "It just feels so good to be really angry for once!"

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, it does. I remember when Ron made that fuss at the Yule Ball last year..." Ginny couldn't help it. She remembered that scene they'd made in the common room last Christmas, and how completely idiotic Ron had acted, and she just cracked up.

"Hey, what's so funny?" It was Ron, followed by Harry. Apparently the train wasn't letting her be alone anymore. Ginny stopped laughing, the knot back in her throat.

Hermione was still chuckling. "We were just remembering last Christmas' Yule Ball, that's all."

"And?" prompted Harry, not looking at Ginny.

"Nothing you'd be interested in, really," Hermione said quickly, glancing away from Ron's face.

"Oh, go on," said Ron.

"I'll tell you back in the compartment, Ron, let's go," said Hermione with a sharp look at Harry.

They left, which meant that one fuming Ginny Weasley was left alone with one clueless Harry Potter.

The silence hung in the air around them. Neither spoke, avoiding each other's eyes completely.

Finally Harry broke the quiet. "Are you mad at me?"

"Now, why would I be mad at you?" said Ginny acidly.

"I just wanted to--"

"No, answer me. Why do you think I would be mad at you?"

"I'm assuming it's Cho..."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor, Harry! Too bad Hermione isn't here, she could award them as a prefect..."

"Oh, stop it, Ginny! There's nothing between me and Cho, really!"

"Oh, really? Is that why I could see the sexual tension between the two of you when she touched you? Why you looked so happy to be near her? Why you didn't even tell me you were going over to talk to her? We spend as much of the summer snogging as possible, then the moment we're in public, it's Harry-Potter-in-love-with-Cho who appears?"

Harry looked dumbstruck. "Ginny, I--"

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "I didn't know that it would upset you so much. I'm sorry."

"Hmph."

Silence fell again, calming Ginny a bit.

"So am I your, y'know, girlfriend?"

"Um...I don't know," Harry mumbled. "See, I do like Cho--at least as a friend--and she's very pretty, and she's a good Seeker..." he broke off as Ginny's eyes flashed like her mother's. "On the platform I just wanted to know if she was okay, after last June, and she just asked me how my summer went. I don't know if she likes me, too."

Ginny realized that she could get Harry all to herself if she just lied, but she couldn't do it. "Hermione thinks she does," she said softly.

"Really?" Harry asked brightly.

Ginny almost burst into tears in frustration. "Look, Harry, I don't want my heart led around with a carrot. You told me that you didn't want to hurt me, that you'd seen enough hurt already, and here you are telling me how much you like another girl after we've spent the summer together? That hurts, Harry, it really does."

"I'm sorry, Ginny! I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to hurt Cho, either! You're someone I can talk to, someone I feel comfortable with. Cho makes my insides squirm, and my..." he blushed. Ginny suddenly realized that he was referring to a certain bodily reaction. "And she's already lost Cedric."

_I have too much Molly Weasley in me,_ thought Ginny, almost resignedly. "I suppose you're right," she sighed. "I shouldn't expect you to be mean to every other girl. I'm sorry I was so upset at you. It's just that I thought we were something..."

"But we are, Ginny," Harry said earnestly.

"What?" asked Ginny dejectedly.

"Good friends?" he asked tentatively.

"Who snog occasionally in empty classrooms?" she asked just as hopefully, beginning to feel better.

"Alright." He grinned mischievously, then glanced at his watch. "We have a while before the train gets to Hogsmeade..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Back at Hogwarts, Some Quidditch, and The Plot Thickens**

Dumbledore made several serious announcements in the Great Hall that evening, after the Sorting, at which there were noticeably fewer students.

"As you all should know, the return of Voldemort means that all of us" he turned his eyes especially toward Harry "should be extremely cautious when leaving these walls. Therefore, we teachers have decided that Madam Hooch will oversee all Quidditch tryouts and practices. In addition, the Forest on the grounds is, as usual, out of bounds, and I impress upon all of you the danger that will come to you should you venture into the Forest. All students must be inside the castle by sundown, and will report to a prefect in their common room by 10 o'clock in the evening, when the library closes. We have extended library hours this year to allow for less crowding in the common rooms. Students doing special projects with their teachers must be escorted back to the common room if it is past 10 o'clock. Prefects will please see me after the feast for new emergency procedures. I must impress upon you not to wander around alone after sundown, for even Hogwarts Castle cannot protect you from its own."

And with that, Dumbledore sat down, leaving the mass of students to digest what he'd said.

Ginny stuck to the agreement she and Harry had made, never pressuring him for more commitment than he wanted to give. About twice a week they would wind up in an empty classroom together, spending a short while snogging.

Classes went as usual--Ginny forcing herself to stay awake through Binns' lectures, Hermione getting top grades in all her classes, Harry and Ron complaining about Snape (Ginny knew what they hated about him, but respected Snape's abilities too much to join in), owls going to and from the Burrow.

Quidditch tryouts were scheduled to start in the second week. Gryffindor needed a new Keeper, Hufflepuff a Seeker, Ravenclaw two Beaters, and Slytherin needed both a Keeper and a Chaser. It was decided that because so many positions were empty, rather than the teams holding individual tryouts as needed, there would be a mass, open tryout, pitting the new players against each other.

So the entire school filed down to the pitch one breezy Saturday in September, two dozen eager faces carrying brooms, looking excited and nervous, and the old players scanning the new people with mixed expressions.

Ron was in the lineup, along with Dennis Creevey, plus a handful of other faces that Ginny recognized from classes but never really knew. As Madam Hooch explained how this tryout would work--after every goal or snitch-catch, they would rotate players so the teams could see each of them in various positions--Ginny caught Harry's eye and grinned at him. He grinned back, obviously excited.

The whistle blew, and they were off. Ron had been assigned Seeker first, and, on Krum's (now Hermione's) broom, was circling the pitch the way Harry often did. Dennis was a Chaser on the other side, and was doing quite well, his small size enabling him to squeeze through corners the other players couldn't. A Ravenclaw, acting as Beater, aimed a Bludger at him, but it missed as he simply ducked his head. Ginny could see Harry watching Dennis with a calculating eye. All three Chasers were in seventh year now, as were both Fred and George. Next year's team would essentially be chosen now, and Dennis would make a good reserve, Ginny thought.

Ron suddenly dived, and the Slytherin assigned as Seeker followed him down, on a Firebolt Two; rumor had it that Draco Malfoy's father had purchased seven of these for the Slytherin team. Fred and George had promised the outraged Gryffindor team that when their joke shop had taken off, they'd always fund the team's new brooms, just so Gryffindor would always have the best. Ron dove thirty, fifty feet, then, just as he looked like he was about to crash, pulled up, leaving the poor Slytherin to smash face first into the grass. Every non-Slytherin cheered as Ron grinned madly, returning to his vantage point above the game. Madam Pomfrey rushed out, looking thoroughly annoyed, and revived the stunned Slytherin. Malfoy looked murderous, and Harry ecstatic.

Play resumed, and Dennis Creevey quickly made a goal for Gryffindor. Places changed, and Ron moved to Beater. All too quickly, places changed again as some Ravenclaw caught the Snitch, despite a good shot of Ron's, aiming a bludger at her head.

Ron moved to Keeper. Now he seemed truly in his element--no one got past him for quite a while. The Ravenclaw serving as the other Keeper was also quite good, so it was a long time before a Hufflepuff Chaser finally got past her, and Madam Hooch signaled everyone to return to the ground.

"Results will be posted in two days' time," she said crisply to the waiting faces.

Ginny, Colin, and Hermione ran down to meet the three boys. Colin immediately ran over to his brother, who began talking excitedly about how much fun that was. Ron looked shocked as Hermione gave him a hug. Harry was immersed in conversation with the rest of the team, though, and simply waved Ginny away with a "see you later."

Two days later, the results came out. Sure enough, Ron had made Keeper, which meant that he would probably be Captain as well, and Dennis was listed as a reserve Chaser.

"So has Cho been asking you about Harry?" Ginny couldn't help but ask one evening, as they were watching Quiddtich practice.

"No, actually," said Hermione thoughtfully. "She's been strangely quiet all term, come to think of it."

"Hmm."

"How is things working out between the two of you, anyway?"

"It's fine, I guess. Nothing's serious," she added, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"I see," said Hermione neutrally, returning her gaze to the Quidditch practice. Harry was circling above the others, who were playing against each other. Ron had released one bludger, which Fred and George took turns hitting at players and subsequently blocking. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were attempting their best moves against Ron, who was doing his best to block.

Ginny watched Harry absentmindedly. He was circling, looking for the Snitch (although he didn't know if Ron had let it out yet, as part of practice), when suddenly he threw up both arms in front of his face and began shrieking in terror. His Firebolt, with no coherent input from its rider, began bucking and spinning, like it had his first year (although Ginny didn't know this). Harry slipped off the side, still screaming incoherently, and began tumbling toward the ground.

Both girls gasped and ran toward the pitch. Fred and George barely reached Harry's tumbling body in time to keep it from slamming into the dirt. As they lowered him to the ground, the team came pelting towards them, shouting out questions. Harry moaned and clutched his forehead.

"It's his scar." said Hermione over the convulsions.

"What do you mean?" asked Angelina.

"His scar hurts when Voldemort"--everyone flinched--"is really angry or nearby."

"We'd better get him inside," said Alicia Spinnet, looking around nervously.

But Harry was twitching too much, jerking around violently, for anyone to get near him.

"Harry!" shouted Ginny, bending down near him, grabbing his arms as they tried to slap her face. "Harry..." she whispered right in his ear.

His eyes flew open and he clutched her hard. "Don't let him--he's coming--tell Dumbledore--stay safe, love--" he gasped hoarsely, and passed out.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," said Ron. "Ginny, go get Dumbledore."

Ginny ran up the front staircases as fast as she could. Where was Dumbledore's office? She'd been to McGonagall's, Snape's, and the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, but never Dumbldore's... Just then, Snape came up the staircase that led to the dungeons.

"Professor!" she gasped. "I need to speak with Dumbledore. Harry..."

Snape gave her a look of deepest disdain. "And what has the famous Harry Potter done to himself now, Miss Weasley?" he asked silkily.

Ginny was immune to his frost--the girl who had resisted Tom Riddle as long as she had could not be fazed by much (except Harry and Cho). "Where is Dumbledore's office, Professor Snape?" she asked, not particularly politely.

Snape looked at her again, this time with something quite unreadable, almost calculating.

"Did I hear Miss Weasley asking for me?" said a voice behind her. She turned around to see Dumbledore coming toward them down the marble staircase.

"Headmaster!" Ginny almost shouted with joy. "Harry fell off his broom during practice, they took him to the hospital wing--I think he had some sort of vision, he was clutching his scar--"

Dumbledore strode back up the staircases so fast that Ginny had to run to keep up with him.

"What happened, in detail, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny told him as they walked about Harry's scream, the way his broomstick had bucked, and what he had told her, leaving out the "love" part, because she didn't think Dumbledore needed to know about her and Harry, and because she wasn't sure herself if he'd actually said that.

They came into the hospital wing to find Harry still unconscious, Madam Pomfrey checking his pulse and temperature.

"How is he, Madam Pomfrey?"

The nurse looked pointedly at the students around her. "Will you three please wait in my office?" he asked Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. "Miss Granger, I believe you know where it is. The password is Fizzing Whizbees. And the rest of you, please return to the common room. I must speak with Madam Pomfrey." And he swept past them.

Dumbledore came into his office looking very somber.

"What is it, Headmaster?" asked Ginny. "Will Harry be okay?" She had bruises on her arms from Harry's grip.

Dumbledore replied gravely, "As I am sure you three know, Harry's scar hurts him whenever Voldemort is angry or nearby, and occasionally allows him, through dreams, to see what is happening. What concerns me this time is that Harry was conscious when he had his vision, as you told me, and according to Madam Pomfrey, has sunk into a coma of sorts."

"Coma of sorts?" asked Hermione. "How is this one different?"

"His pulse is unsteady and his eyelids are flickering as though dreaming, Miss Granger. I highly suspect that he is dreaming, but cannot wake up."

"What do we do?" asked Ron nervously.

"Unless something else happens, we wait. Harry appears to be in no immediate danger, so I would suggest the three of you continue with your schoolwork. It is important that we not let Voldemort interfere too much with our lives."

"So it was Voldemort?" asked Ginny. "He did this to Harry?"

"I cannot imagine what else could, Miss Weasley."

"But can't we do anything?"

"Miss Granger, I appreciate your desire to assist, but this time there is nothing we can do."

They left his office sadly.

Ginny sat talking with Colin and Zoe about Harry later that evening.

"Dumbledore said there's nothing we can do?" asked Zoe, shocked.

"He is a powerful wizard, though--maybe he just doesn't want us students interfering," said Ginny bitterly.

"But remember how he always lets Harry and his friends get away with their adventures, even giving them clues?" Colin said. He had followed Harry's escapades closely ever since his arrival at Hogwarts. Ginny thought he'd make a great reporter one day.

"So?" asked the girls.

"So Dumbledore wouldn't ask you to stay out of it unless he really meant it, would he?"

"Maybe you're right," said Ginny sadly.

"Well, I'm going to bed, Ginny," said Colin. "See you in the morning."

"Me, too," added Zoe. "Don't stay up too late, we've got a test tomorrow in Charms."

"Right," said Ginny absently.

Over in another corner sat Ron and Hermione, for once without Harry. They weren't speaking, but were playing chess. Ginny supposed they were trying to keep their minds off what had happened. She wandered over to sit next to them, watching Hermione lose badly. Even upset and distracted, Ron was quite a good player. Hermione's knight glared up at her as she allowed Ron's queen to take him. "Pay attention, girl!" it squeaked. "You'd think you were lost in a Pensieve!"

Hermione jumped up, scattering the pieces, and ran to her dormitory.

"What's up?" called Ron and Ginny after her. It didn't look as though she were running to cry.

"I've just realized something we can do!" Hermione shouted down the staircase. She came back down carrying a large book. "I got this out of the library a week ago for a bit of light reading."

"This is light?" asked Ginny. Ron grinned at Hermione. "What?"

"That's what I said to Hermione our first year when she came down with a big book about alchemists--that Nicholas Flamel thing," he chuckled.

Hermione glared at both of them.

"So what is it, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"What that knight said--Pensieves. There's a way to use a Pensieve to hold someone's dreams as they're dreaming. Except that it's only been tried on people in normal sleep, so I don't know if it will work with Harry... I'm going to ask Dumbledore."

"But it's almost midnight!" said Ginny. "We're not supposed to be out..."

"I'm a prefect, remember?"

"Oh, right. Come on, Ron."

The castle was very dark as they made their way down the corridors to the Headmaster's office. The invisibility cloak had gotten too small for all three of them, and Hermione said that she would just tell any professor who caught them the truth--that they were going to see the Headmaster. They did take the Map, though, to avoid Filch.

"D'you think he sleeps?" asked Ron as they reached the hallway near the Headmaster's office.

"Of course he sleeps, Ron," snapped Hermione. "He's human, he has to sleep."

"But he is an old man prone to late night wanderings," said a voice behind them.

They turned to see Albus Dumbledore looking at them.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley," he said. "I do believe that it is past ten o'clock."

"We wanted to see you, Professor," said Hermione.

"About Harry," added Ginny.

"Yeah, Hermione has this idea about a Pensieve," said Ron quickly.

"Come along, then," said Dumbledore, sweeping them up to his office.

**Author Notes:** The idea that Dumbledore is there whenever you call him is taken from the Chrestomanci books of Dianna Wynne Jones--a true precursor to the Harry Potter ideas.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: In Dumbledore's Office**

Ginny had never been in Dumbledore's office--nor had Ron. Hermione took a seat with the grace of one who knew what she was doing, and Ginny quickly followed. Ron stood for a moment, awkwardly, before Dumbledore motioned him to sit.

"Lemon drop?" asked Dumbledore, holding out the bowl of sweets.

The three looked startled. "Er, no thanks, Professor," said Hermione slowly.

"Are you sure? I find that it helps me focus my thoughts, Miss Granger. Miss Weasley? Mr. Weasley?" He held out the bowl to the two of them, but they shook their heads.

"We had an idea, Professor--" Ginny began.

"Actually, it's Hermione's idea," said Ron, looking proud.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" promted Dumbledore.

"You see, sir, I thought--since Harry's in a coma but he's dreaming, maybe we could use a Pensieve to draw out his dreams--since dreams are similar to memories..." She trailed off a little uncertainly. "I was reading _More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About Pensieves_ last week, since I was thinking of getting one for Harry for the memories from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and it said that Pensieves can be used by a close friend or relative to transfer reoccurring nightmares. The spells involved were highly complex, though, and it emphasized the closeness of the friend"--she glanced at Ginny--"and the reoccurring nightmares."

"Ahh, _More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About Pensieves_," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "By Quillan Sopor, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"I have found," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, standing up to go to the cabinet where his own Pensieve was locked, "that Quillan Sopor is not always complete in his research, although this particular usage I have never learned much about."

"So..?" asked Ron hopefully.

"So it is possible it could work, yes. However," and he held up a hand to stem their joy, "we do not know if Harry is experiencing a recurring nightmare, or if he is simply dreaming."

"Oh." Hermione's face fell.

"But I congratulate you on your intelligence, Miss Granger. Take twenty points for Gryffindor."

Ginny grinned at Hermione; Ron gazed in adoration at her.

"However, you three are out of bed after hours. While I appreciate you coming to me immediately with this idea, it could have waited until morning." He looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Ginny. "Miss Weasley, I would think that you would understand the dangers that Hogwarts Castle contains, especially after dark."

"Yes, Professor," Ginny whispered, shuddering at the thought of her first year.

"Now I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower and expect you in my office immediately after breakfast tomorrow."

Saturday at ten o'clock found the three of them standing in front of the gargoyle outside of Dumbledore's office, nervous.

"Do you think this'll work?" asked Ron, who was running his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know, Ron," said Hermione. "And stop fidgeting!" She grabbed his wrist as he threatened to run his hand across his scalp again. "Your hair's standing on end!"

"Don't fuss!" he retorted.

Ginny almost laughed out loud, watching the two of them act like a bickering married couple. She managed to reduce it to a choked giggle, but her nerves made her feel a little hysterical. They looked at her.

"Sorry, something in my throat," she lied. "Can we go in already?"

Hermione gave the password ("Sugar Quill!") and the gargoyle sprang aside to reveal the moving stone staircase they'd travelled up the day before.

"Ahh, Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore as they entered his office. "Please, come in, have a seat."

They sat tentatively. Ginny took a better look around his office, having been particularly distracted last night. The office was round, filled with whirring contraptions, and bathed in soft light. All in all, it was quite comforting to be in. On a perch near Dumbledore's desk sat Fawkes, who flew over to perch on her shoulder.

"Hello, Fawkes," she said. "I never got to thank you for the Chamber incident..." she said, feeling a little foolish at talking to a bird. The bird just looked at her solemnly and inclined his head, as if to say, "My pleasure."

Ginny looked around to realize the other three were staring at her. "My mother taught me to be polite," she said, almost defensively.

"That's perfectly all right, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore. "I find that Fawkes appreciates appreciation. Phoenixes are highly faithful pets, and I'm sure Fawkes will remember you."

Hermione cleared her throat loudly to draw attention back to their situation.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Potter." Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I have re-read the book which you mentioned, Miss Granger, and I see no reason not to try it. However," he said to ward off their jubilation, "there are significant risks involved. It would be all too easy for the contact person to lose themselves in the Pensieve as well. Staying in too long can convince the person's brain that 'this is reality,' thus hampering the ability to return to the present."

They nodded their understanding.

Dumbledore looked at their three eager, expectant faces. "But who shall go?"

They looked at each other. "Well..." began Hermione, looking significantly at Ginny.

"Um.." said Ginny.

"A friend, right?" said Ron.

"A close friend or relative," affirmed Dumbledore. "Someone whom the person will accept and believe. Someone the person trusts with their life."

"Well, that'd be all three of us, I think," said Ron. "Can't we all go?"

"No," said Hermione. "We all can observe, the way a Pensieve works normally, but only one of us can actually interact with Harry."

"You two have known him longer," said Ginny, feeling a horrible sinking.

"Yeah," said Ron, oblivious.

"But--" said Hermione at the same time.

"But what, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, as if he already knew the answer.

"But he's in love with Ginny," she blurted.

"What?" said Ron, suddenly the protective brother. "Ginny's just a baby!"

"Ron, I'm fourteen! I've been menstruating for two years already! I'm not a baby anymore!"

"But you're too young for a guy to fall in love with you!"

Ginny was about to explode when Dumbledore cut in. "As much as I understand your need to protect Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Harry's life hangs in the balance. Madam Pomfrey has informed me that he is weakening. However, we need not--indeed, can not--decide this now. Firstly, we need an empty Pensieve, which must be ordered, and secondly, it must be prepared by the contact person no more than a day in advance. I would suggest the three of you talk seriously and choose quickly but without bias."

Ron looked dutifully abashed, Ginny looked relieved, and Hermione just looked annoyed.

"How long will it take to get the Pensieve?" she asked Dumbledore.

"We'll have by Thursday, Miss Granger," he replied. "I took the liberty of owling Hogsmeade this morning, but they informed me that they would have to special order it, rush, of course." In a much lighter voice, he continued, "Now, I believe the first Quidditch match of the season is on today--Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff? Why don't we go together."

The match went as expected--Hufflepuff's new seeker, while good, was no match for Cho Chang of Ravenclaw, now a sixth year and quite experienced. The Hufflepuffs also seemed to still be in mourning from the loss of Cedric, and their grief affected their game.

The week passed in jumps and starts. After the match, Ron and Hermione had gone off for a quick talk without Ginny. Ron came back looking mutinous and muttering, "We'll talk later," in a very stiff voice to Ginny. Hermione looked triumphant but distinctly ruffled.

"Don't be," Ginny said, as Hermione complained about Ron making her so angry. "I'm his baby sister. He protects me."

"But you shouldn't let him--" Hermione protested, but Ginny put an arm around her.

"It's not a big deal. He'll grow out of it."

But Ron didn't speak to Ginny until Thursday, when a large tawny owl delivered the Pensieve to the Gryffindor table at breakfast. When the package arrived in Ginny's lap, he simply gared at her, not saying anything.

Word had traveled quickly via Lavender-post (she and Seamus were still seeing each other, and Ron and Seamus were rooming together--Ron did talk) that something was happening to take care of Harry's condition, and that Ginny was now his girlfriend. "Madly in love with her" was the exact wording that Lavender had used, actually, and it made Ginny quite annoyed when people pointed at her in the corridor. Didn't they realize she had a lot to think about for Saturday? That she needed to prepare advanced level charms just to rescue a guy who had kissed her a few times?

Needless to say, Cho was not happy about it.

So when the large round package landed in Ginny's lap, the hall fell silent as everyone stared at Ginny. Then Cho spoke in a stage whisper to the girl next to her: "She's not that pretty--must be an easy lay."

Titters spread across the Ravenclaw table, and quickly to the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Ron's internal battle to protect his sister suddenly broke, and he stalked over to the Ravenclaw table to confront Cho.

"Take that back, Cho," he snarled, aware that the teachers were all watching expectantly, Dumbledore having waved them silent.

"Take what back, Weasley?"

"Take back what you said about my sister!"

"Why? It must be true. Harry Potter wouldn't just go out with a poor girl, unless--" her expression changed to pure malice "unless he was doing it as a favor to you? You know, 'teach my sister the facts of life so that some other no-good pauper will want to take her?'"

Ron yelled, and reached for his wand at the same time Cho pulled hers out. There was a loud BANG as several spells were fired at once: Ron's Leg Locker Curse, Cho's Jelly Legs Jinx, and Dumbledore's, much louder than the rest, _"Stupefy!"_ Cho and Ron both crumpled to the floor, and Professor McGonagall was suddenly right next to the scene, murmuring, _"Ennervate!"_

Cho and Ron sat bolt upright, shaking. "You two," said McGonagall crisply. "Come with me, now. At the very least you will both face suspesion. Miss Chang, I am thoroughly disappointed in you, and _you_ Mr. Weasley, have shown a considerable lack of restraint."

"But--Professor!" gasped Ron, struggling to keep up. "She--she said--"

"I am perfectly aware of what Miss Chang said, Mr. Weasley. Now come along."

Ginny sat in the Gryffindor common room later that day, waiting to meet up with Ron and Hermione before dinner. Colin and Zoe were sitting near her, not talking, just offering their presence. She needed it. Her nerves were frayed and she kept jumping at small creaks and pops from the fire.

"You going to be okay doing this?" asked Zoe quietly.

"I hope so," said Ginny, barely trusting herself to speak.

"She'll be fine," said Colin warmly. "Top marks in Charms, right? Ever since you got your new wand and all."

Ginny grinned at him, remembering the trip to Diagon Alley earlier that summer.

_"Fred and George have offered to buy me a new wand," Ginny told Hermione as they walked down Diagon Alley._

_"Did they get their money back from Bagman?" asked Hermione._

_"I guess so--only they seem to have an awful lot of money now. They gave me ten Galleons to buy it myself."_

_"That's awful nice of them."_

_"Yeah," said Ginny. "It's really weird, too. Normally they'd just give me a fake wand and call that a gift."_

_Hermione laughed. "Yeah, you're right. Want to go into Ollivander's? It's right here?"_

_"Would you mind--I don't mean to offend--but can I do this alone?" asked Ginny._

_"Why?" asked Hermione curiously._

_"I guess because I want it to feel special, and it's my first time really buying something for myself..."_

_"No, no, I understand. I'll wait for you at Madam Malkin's?"_

_"Sure."_

_Hermione left Ginny alone outside the dark door leading to Ollivanders. It creaked as she pushed it open, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light._

_"Miss Weasley."_

_She jumped. No one had been there a minute ago, but there was Mr. Ollivander, standing but two feet from her, eyeing her._

_"I recognize your hair--you look like Molly. It's Ginevra?"_

_"Um--yes, sir."_

_"But you're a little old to be buying your first wand?"_

_"Yes, sir." Ginny shuffled a little. "I used Bill's old wand for several years, my parents couldn't aff-"_

_"Ah, yes. Fudge is keeping Arthur back at the Ministry. I'd heard about that. Unfortunate. So you are here to purchase your very own wand. Excellent. Hold out your wand hand," he said as a tape measure flew up and began measuring the length of her right arm, around her hand, around her wrist and upper arm, and was about to measure between her nostrils when Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands and it clattered to the floor._

_"Let's see, let's see... Miss Weasley, what's your favorite subject? Charms? Transfiguration?"_

_"Actually, History and Astronomy. And I like Potions," she said, almost defensively._

_"Really? How curious. I'm sure you're aware, Miss Weasley, that the function of the wand is to both amplify and focus the magical energies directed at the subject," he continued, pulling boxes off the shelves. "Do you get good marks in Potions?"_

_"Yes, sir. Top marks," she couldn't help adding with a slight grin._

_"And how about in Transfiguration? Charms?"_

_"I do well, sir, but they're not my favorites."_

_"And you're starting your third year?" Ginny nodded. "What are your electives?"_

_"My new subjects, sir? Arithmancy and Muggle Studies."_

_"Hm. Let me see your old wand."_

_Ginny passed it over._

_"Willow and dragon heartstring, eight inches, quite flexible. I remember this one. Not powerful, but a strong focus."_

_"Mr. Ollivander--"_

_"Yes?"_

_"How does that work? How do the wands work?"_

_Mr. Ollivander paused to contemplate Ginny Weasley for a moment. "I do believe no one has asked me that since young Riddle was in here."_

_"Tom Riddle?" Ginny gasped. "He bought his wand from you?"_

_"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew and phoenix feather. Very powerful."_

Phoenix feather,_ Ginny thought. "So that's why his and Harry's wands connected at the duel? Because they share cores?"_

_"It is. A wand, as I mentioned, works to focus and amplify the wizard's energies. It is not necessary to have a wand for performing magic--as in Potions and Arithmancy. However, your appreciation of those subjects is probably due to the fact that your wand always feels sluggish when you perform a spell?"_

_Ginny nodded. "It works, but it feels as though I'm pushing the spell up a river. But how does the wand do that? Amplify and focus, I mean?"_

_"Every magical object has a resonance--I believe the Muggles call it a waveform in their quantum physics--and every human being has their own resonance. Different wand cores have different resonances, and it is these that focus your energy. The outer wood serves to amplify and project the spell by its physical properties as well as its own resonance."_

_"Wow."_

_"Here, try this one. Willow and unicorn hair, ten-and-a-quarter inches. Excellent for transfiguration."_

_Ginny waved the wand and it sputtered indignantly before engulfing them in a cloud of purple smoke._

_"I don't think so, Mr. Ollivander," said Ginny, coughing._

_"Then this--six inches, quite stiff, hornbeam and dragon heartstring."_

_This wand merely sat dead in Ginny's hand. "It doesn't even respond," she said. "It doesn't feel magical to me."_

_"Curious." He pulled another box out. "Let's try this. Phoenix feather and oak, seven inches, flexible."_

_As Ginny touched the wand, it felt like power engulfed her. The world shimmered in front of her for a moment. _Wow,_ she thought. _This feels wonderful._ She waved it, and a fountain of sparks hung in the air for several seconds._

_"You are the third person in the world, Miss Weasley, to own a wand containing Fawkes' phoenix feathers. But why would you have such a connection? For it is the wand that chooses the wizard." He searched her face._

_Ginny didn't feel like explaining what had happened her first year, so simply muttered a vague "I'm not sure," paid her eight Galleons, and left, clutching the box to her chest, praying that her wand didn't expect the same of her that Harry's did of him._

Ginny's grades had improved with the new wand. It responded wonderfully, almost the way Harry had described his new Firebolt two years ago. Transfiguration and Charms had become two of her favorite subjects, now that she was good at them, and many people respected her for being top of the year, although nowhere near as good as Hermione was. Ginny got 100 percents, not 300 percents.

She looked up in time to see Ron coming through the portrait hole, McGonagall following.

Ron and Ginny looked anywhere but the other person's face for three seconds. Then Ron ran to hug her briefly, whisper, "Sorry about that," in her ear, and run up to his dormitory.

"Miss Weasley?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Miss Chang is waiting outside to speak with you."

Ginny got up nervously and crossed the common room to leave out the portrait hole. Cho was pacing the corridor, looking angry.

"Cho?" she asked tentatively.

Cho whirled, startled.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Uhh.. yeah." Her voice was quiet.

"Yes?"

"Um..." she took a deep breath and focussed her gaze on a spot six inches above Ginny's left shoulder. "I wanted to apologize for what I said in the Great Hall. I don't think that Harry is seeing you simply to sleep with you and it was entirely uncalled for." The words marched out as though she was repeating what someone else had said.

"Really." Ginny was not about to let Cho get away with such a weak apology.

"What do you mean, 'really'?" she snapped, glaring at Ginny.

"I just don't think that you really care about what you said to me. You want to have Harry to yourself, I know that. I told him I wouldn't get in the way."

"Hah!" snarled Cho. "You've been seeing him all over the school since term began! And he was at your house this summer!"

"So?"

The other girl seemed lost at Ginny's equanimity. She sputtered and stared.

"Look, Cho," said Ginny. "Harry's a nice, good guy, and all I'm trying to do is get him out of the coma. I need to focus on that, not on how much someone hates me for simply wanting to help him. I'm sure that Dumbledore would have let you do what I have to do, except that I know him better. We've been through more together--he saved my life when I was eleven, you know! Things like that form a very deep bond, Dumbledore says."

Cho was still stiff, but Ginny could see her upper lip trembling.

"I don't want you to be jealous of me," said Ginny softly. "I'm not jealous of me--I might not come back from this."

"What?" Cho clearly hadn't heard this.

"I could get stuck in there if something goes wrong," Ginny continued. "There's no guarantee that this will even work. I might just fall in with him."

"Oh! I didn't know--" Cho suddenly seemed small and helpless in her worry.

"Look, when Harry comes out of this, the three of us can sit down and talk it out, okay?"

Cho nodded, clearly about to cry.

"I'm going to bed then," said Ginny, turning to go.

"Good luck," said Cho.

As Ginny reached the Fat Lady, she noticed that that old witch, Violet, was visiting.

"Good for you, girl!" Violet said enthusiastically. "You tell her that he's your man!"

"Violet!" said the Fat Lady. "Keep it down! The other portraits will hear!" She looked at Ginny and winked. "If Harry doesn't fall at your feet after this, then I'm going to have a stern talk with that young man!"

Ginny blushed and entered the common room.

**Author Notes:** "Lavender-post" term is taken from _The Fire and the Rose _by Abby and Domina, at Witchfics.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: In Which Ginny Prepares**

Friday passed all too quickly. She had Potions last thing on Friday, and, for the first time in her experience, they had a lecture-only period. But hearing Professor Snape drone on and on about poison antidotes (honestly, it really wasn't that boring, just repetitive--almost all the antidotes had the same basic ingredients, and the formulas for counteracting most poisons were fairly regular, with only a few exceptions that were easy enought to memorize) didn't slow time down enough. All too soon, she discovered that her dinner plate was empty, of what she could not remember, and Professor McGonagall was standing behind her in the Great Hall.

"Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, Professor?" Ginny hoped she didn't sound as tired, nervous, and scared as she felt.

"The Headmaster wished me to remind you to meet him in the Hospital Wing at eight o'clock tomorrow. And please, get a good night's sleep." She sniffed. "You'll certainly need it." McGonagall left the Hall, her emerald robes as tidy as ever.

Ginny looked up to the High Table and saw Dumbledore looking down his glasses at her. His eyes were almost unreadable--she wondered how high his hopes were. She sighed, put down her napkin, and got up from the table. The few people who were left in the Great Hall shot knowing glances at each other as she made her way out to the entrance hall and up the staircases.

_I almost wish it could be Cho's job,_ she thought as she passed a suit of armor that was wheezing gently. _Then I could be facing a nice, normal Saturday with Colin, Ingrid, Mela, and Zoe._ They had been planning over the summer to teach Colin how to swim, and after Halloween the lake would be too cold... It would probably have to wait until April at this point... if she ever made it to April.

She reached a landing and realized that, deep as she had been in her thoughts, she wasn't where she had headed. _Damn_, she thought. _It's Friday. Sixth to seventh floor east wing staircase leads to North Tower on Fridays, I forgot...As bad as Neville..._ Sighing, she turned around and was making her way back down the staircase, when a voice arose out of the dimness of the stairwell.

"Ahh, Miss Weasley," came the faint, misty voice.

Ginny closed her eyes and prayed. It was Trelawney. _Oh, no,_ thought Ginny, wishing that her mother hadn't raised her to be so polite.

"Professor Trelawney," Ginny said cordially.

"The Fates informed me that you would find your way to my tower this evening, my child. And what better time than a relaxing Friday evening for reading the cards?" Trelawney daintily adjusted her gauze shawls. "Come, my dear, and we shall have tea together."

"I'm sorry Professor, I was on my way to the common room, and I just got distracted... took a wrong turn..." she muttered. Ginny turned to go, but Trelawney caught her arm.

"I understand that your spirit must be troubled, child. After all, the Boy Who Lived will not live much longer. I have Seen the spectre of Death circling, lower and lower..." Trelawney's voice dropped an octave as she made her pronouncement, staring deep into Ginny's face.

Ginny fought back a snort. Unfortunately, though, this time Trelawney could be getting it right, she realized with a start. _Coincidence,_ she reminded herself.

Trelawney still had Ginny's arm in her grasp, and was gently tugging her towards the stepladder that had descended from the ceiling.

"Please, Professor, I really must go to bed, I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow..." Ginny tried to pry her arm loose from Trelawney's iron grip.

Trelawney didn't let go. "My child, I see your aura is disturbed by events on the ethereal planes--you really must let me crystal gaze for you--I sense that you are deeply worried and are not letting others share the burden of your troubles."

Ginny sighed, and let herself be herded up the stepladder into Trelawney's office.

It was stiflingly hot. The fire was blazing and the windows were all closed, and the candles were giving off a sickenly sweet smell, rather like some of the Muggle bubble bath her father had bought her once. "Country Peach," the little bottle read, although the ingredients list contained nothing that she recognized, much less could pronounce. She still had the bottle and had resolved to someday get the courage to ask Professor Snape. Dealing with his sarcasm was one thing, but actually approaching him willingly was quite another.

Ginny was brought back to the present by Trelawney placing a large glass sphere on the table between them. "I need you to think of young Mr. Potter, my dear," she announced as she settled herself on a pouf. "Let your mind float free," she intoned, "and your memories roam, unencumbered by reason..."

Well, thinking of Harry wasn't so hard or unpleasant. The images flashed past: his grin in Flourish and Blotts when she'd told Malfoy to leave him alone; him kneeling beside her in the Chamber of Secrets when she woke up from the horrible nightmare of Tom Riddle; being squished next to him in a cab, and how warm his thighs felt; seeing him on the Quidditch pitch catching the Snitch to win the Cup two years ago--and his Patronus shooting out of his wand, a giant silver stag; him looking shaken and worn out after the TriWizard Tournament, with Cedric's body clutched to his side; his kiss at the Burrow... Ginny flushed suddenly, remembering some of their more explorative kissing at Hogwarts.

"I see that you have fond feelings for young Harry," said Trelawney.

_Well, it would take an idiot not to notice!_ thought Ginny. "What else, Professor?" she asked politely, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"I see..." she gazed intently into the sphere, searching it for something. Then she stepped back quickly. "That can't be right!" she said, suddenly sounding like a normal person. "_Harry_ is marked for death, not... not the other..." she muttered almost too softly for Ginny to hear.

"Professor?"

"Excuse me, Miss Weasley," said Trelawney, returning to her normal airy-fairy voice. "Perhaps it is best if we leave it here..."

"No, Professor, I'd like to know..." _If only because it surprised her_, Ginny thought. _It's probably an accurate seeing this time._

"No, child, it is better if you do not know..."

"Please?" Ginny asked imploringly, laying her hand on Trelawney's thin arm. "Everyone's told me how wonderful your predictions are," she continued flatteringly, "and I really think it's a pity that my Arithmancy class is at the same time..."

"No, my dear, I think you should go," said Trelawney firmly, and Ginny found herself out on the landing with nothing to show for her wasted half hour.

But it seemed as though Trelawney knew nothing about Harry's current condition, or she would have been dancing for joy, Ginny realized. Oh, dear. Things were getting too complicated.

Ginny slept surprisingly well, considering that Saturday could be her last day at Hogwarts--not just that she might get lost in the Pensieve (which Dumbledore assured her was only a small probability), but that her parents might drag her straight back home once they learned what she was doing. Dumbledore and McGonagall had wanted to owl Mrs. Weasley and let her know ahead of time that Ginny was taking extreme risks doing this, but Ginny had managed to convince them that, if her mother knew, Ginny would be on the next train back to London and locked in her room until she was forty.

As it was, she still could be.

And she didn't understand why Dumbledore was letting her risk her life to do this. He was so protective of the students normally, and this just seemed odd. She supposed it was because it was Harry Potter and all that, and that she was just the girl who had the best chance of saving him. What she was saving him from, she didn't know.

Curious students were lined up in the corridors outside the Hospital Wing, and whispers flew as Ginny walked past. Dumbledore had set the time for eight o'clock to try and discourage such rubbernecking, but this was Harry Potter they were dealing with. She saw Cho at one point, but the girl merely gazed at her, unspeaking and unsmiling. The professors were there, ostensibly to keep things under control, but Ginny thought they, too, were probably just curious.

McGonagall was guarding the door to the Infirmary, and let her in with a curt nod. "The Headmaster is waiting for you, Miss Weasley."

Dumbledore was standing next to Harry's bed. The Pensieve lay on a low table next to him, and Ron and Hermione were sitting in chairs at the foot of the bed. Directly adjacent to Harry's bed was a small cot, with pillows and a thick blanket.

Ginny swallowed nervously, then noticed the sounds of an argument coming from Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Poppy, I absolutely forbid it! It would render the potion completely useless--the pH isn't high enough to buffer against stomach acids. And the bloodstream needs to absorb it as quickly as possible!"

"But Severus, the child needs her strength!" _Severus?_ thought Ginny. _Snape?_ "And if we simply added a few more drops of dragon's blood, it can counter the effects..."

There was a slamming sound, as if Snape had hit the desk. "We don't know that, Poppy! The interaction between dragon's blood and caterpillar skins is too delicate--it simply hasn't been studied enough in buffering situations! There are hundreds of possible side effects to be considered! And she's a Weasley, and that family has a documented reaction to dragon's blood that I have already had to take into account!"

The door opened and a very flushed Snape emerged, followed by a glowering Madam Pomfrey.

"I still say she needs nutrition. What if her blood sugar drops too low and she loses focus while in the Pensieve?" she muttered.

Snape came to a halt in front of Ginny, his mask of sneering contempt firmly fixed in place.

"Ahh, Miss Weasley, our newest heroine, come to rescue Mr. Potter." The words and the face were there, but the venom wasn't dripping as thickly as usual.

"Severus--" began Dumbledore warningly.

Snape waved Dumbledore away. "Am I allowed to even consider that you followed the directions and did not eat breakfast?" he asked.

"I have not eaten since dinner last night, Professor," Ginny replied calmly. _I could hit him,_ she thought.

"A Gryffindor who can follow directions! Amazing!" he murmured.

"Severus, may we begin?" asked Dumbledore, with a touch of impatience. Snape nodded shortly, and Dumbledore began to explain the procedure. "Miss Weasley, the plan today is to first have you guide Harry's dreams into the Pensieve. If that cannot be done, then everything else is futile. However, Madam Pomfrey believes strongly that Harry is dreaming, and, judging by the patterns of his eye movements, that they are repetitive dreams, which allows us to 'drain' his thoughts--if the dreams are only single occurrences, then they will be simple memories in the Pensieve, rather than interactive situations.

"The next step after that is taking the potion that Professor Snape has kindly prepared for this purpose. It is akin to Dreamless Sleep, which I believe you are familiar with?" Dumbledore raised his eyes questioningly to Ginny.

Ginny nodded, remembering the Chamber--Madam Pomfrey had had to dose her with it heavily for two days before Ginny was able to deal with the nightmares. "Yes, sir, I am familiar with it."

"This potion, however, is designed to increase your receptivity to dreaming. It will not put you to sleep, though--you will, in a sense, be daydreaming. Once you are fully under its effects, you will need to be aware enough of the present to enter Harry's Pensieve. It will be difficult, Miss Weasley, as the potion will cause severe distractions--you will not necessarily be able to tell real from unreal, as they will be superimposed. The real Pensieve should appear to you to have an aura, and will hopefully draw you to it--the potion should connect you to it. You will know you have succeeded when you see a single world image. Are you ready? Do you have any more questions?"

"Professor?" interrupted Hermione. Ginny started. She'd forgotten they were there.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"You said that we could join her..." Ron said.

"Of course, but only in the standard method of Pensieve usage. You will have to wait until Miss Weasley has entered. Ready?" he asked Ginny again.

Ginny could only nod.

"Then let us begin," said Professor Dumbledore, drawing out his wand. "I will help you cast the wards, Miss Weasley..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Inside the Pensieve**

Ginny's mind buzzed with the warding spells Dumbledore had given her to learn. Her hand moved in the familiar patterns she had traced out just that morning, willing herself to memorize them. The Latin fell out of her mouth, and it seemed to her adrenaline-rushed mind that she could _see_ the words puddling on the floor in front of her, glowing with power. Swish, flick, snap, flick. Her wrist bent at the odd angles she had forced upon it, and her nerves screamed at her to get on with it and finish, but her brain reminded her of the exact tempo Dumbledore was taking.

Somewhere at the fringes of her consciousness, Ginny noticed Ron staring, dumbfounded, at his sister who seemed, overnight, to have become quite a powerful witch. _Good,_ thought her mean little voice. _Maybe he'll finally realize I'm not just his little sister anymore._

Ginny could also see Hermione's lips moving slowly, as if she, too, were trying to learn the spells by heart.

And complicated spells these were. Not simply the basic wards to prevent random passersby from entering the Pensieve, and those to bring luck, courage, and quick thinking to the spellcasters, but spells to prevent her from bringing back anything that didn't belong in the waking world. Although it was rare, it had happened--Nicholas the Nosy had died from bringing back a demon from one of his own nightmares. While the demon couldn't hurt anyone in the Pensieve, Nicholas' own fears had given it a life of its own when it had returned with him. And who knew what sort of horrors Harry might be dreaming of? Considering his reactions to the Dementors--whose presence made Ginny remember her nightmare of the Chamber--she didn't dare imagine.

Ginny forced herself to pay attention to Dumbledore, who was beginning to trace out the finishing pentagram on the floor of the hospital.

"_Finis,_" said Dumbledore finally.

"_Finis,_" Ginny added, and at the pentagram surrounding the Pensieve and Harry's bed flashed once with a bright blue-white light, then started pulsating gently.

"It is ready. Professor Snape, the potion, please?" Ginny thought she heard Dumbledore's voice tremble, just for a minute.

"Headmaster." Snape handed over a small vial to Dumbledore, who took it and held it up to the light. "It is complete?"

"Of course, Headmaster," replied Snape, his voice still dripping venom.

"Miss Weasley?"

Ginny gently took the vial with trembling fingers. She had to do this, had to go through with it. She couldn't back down, not now. There was no way she was going to let Ron say to the school, "I knew it, she's too young, she can't handle it yet," or let Cho crow her superiority over the small Gryffindor girl. This was Harry she was helping, Harry whose face had appeared in her more--imaginative--dreams ever since she was thirteen, Harry whose voice she imagined as she fantasized each night. Harry who was supposed to save the bleeding world! And, to be honest, Ginny rather thought that she could be remembered as The Girl Who Saved The Boy Who Lived. But only if she got control of herself and took the potion.

She uncorked the vial and held it up to her nose. It smelled strongly of dragon's blood--she remembered the argument between Snape and Pomfrey and wondered briefly what he had been talking about. Weasleys? A documented reaction to dragon's blood? No time to wonder right now.

"You'll want to drink it in one gulp, if you drink it at all," said a voice quietly from somewhere to her left. It was Snape, and the acid in his voice brought her back with a jolt. So Snape thought she couldn't go through with this, did he?

Ginny upturned the vial and drank, and the world suddenly went inside out.

Ginny blinked, trying to clear her head, but the world stayed firmly in two pieces. She could see everyone watching her expectantly. She turned her head and could see Ron muttering something in Hermione's ear, but she could also see him wrapping his arms around her protectively, and Hermione cuddling into his shoulder. Then she remembered what Dumbledore had said--two world visions, one real, one not. But was she seeing their subconscious or hers? It didn't matter.

_The Pensieve_ she told herself firmly. _Find the Pensieve._

It seemed to have disappeared. The part of her that was aware of the original world remembered it being on the bedside table--but the bedside table wasn't anywhere near her... wait--was that it? She walked toward the Pensieve-shaped thing, and tipped her nose into it, but the sensation was hollow, like touching a ghost. It wasn't the real one. Damn.

She walked toward Dumbledore and started talking, "Professor, I can't see it..."

And two versions of him spoke:

"It's **Don't worry** on the **child, you** table **don't have** behind **do** you **this**"

Ginny blinked, sorting out the double messages. _Don't worry, child, you don't have to do this_ stayed with her for a long moment, then she made out, "It's on the table behind you," and turned around.

The Pensieve was glowing, an indescribable conglomeration of colors and shadows. She supposed it was Harry's thoughts. She stepped over to it, touched her nose to it, and fell.

She kept falling, falling, until she found herself on her feet, in the grass, in a graveyard. There was no-one there at the moment. It was quite warm, quite dark.

Then there was a faint _pop!_ as two people came into view at her feet: Harry and Cedric... _Cedric!_ Cedric Diggory? _Tri-Wizard Tournament_, Ginny realized.

"Where are we?" said Harry, lying down on the ground, looking battered and bruised. Ginny realized that this must have been just after the two of them had reached the Cup at the center of the maze.

Cedric shook his head. Ginny's throat caught--to see him alive again!--as he pulled Harry to his feet. The two of them stared around at the place they'd just landed.

"Did anyone tell _you_ the Cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked.

"Nope," said Harry. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric nervously. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

The two of them pulled out their wands, and waited, tensely. "Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

Ginny turned to look where they were watching, and suddenly saw present-Harry watching the scene as well.

"Go back," he muttered hoarsely. Ginny could see his eyes were red and his face pale, and he was far too skinny. "Dammit, Harry, you fool, run, go back, tell Cedric to hide..."

Behind present-Harry Ginny could see a figure approaching, carrying a bundle in its arms. Then the figure stopped, not six feet from them, and Harry crumpled to the ground, clutching his scar.

Then the high, cold voice spoke: "_Kill the spare._"

A swishing noice and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Ginny screamed aloud as she watched the memory of Cedric Diggory fall to the ground beside Harry, who was still clutching his scar.

Present-Harry suddenly noticed her. "Ginny?" he asked. Then he shook his head. "You can't be here... you're just a dream, nothing real..." He turned away from her, deaf to her protestations. "You fool," he was saying to himself, lying on the ground. "It's all your fault he died. You brought him along, you convinced him to take the glory with you..."

"No!" shouted Ginny. Around them a horrific scene was playing out: the strange figure in robes had tied Harry to the headstone and was now pushing a cauldron into the clearing. A gigantic snake circled the grass around the headstone.

Harry turned to her. "You're not real," he said shortly. "Go away. Leave me to my own hell." He put his back to her and crossed his arms.

Ginny stared in disbelief at Harry as the scene changed, shifted to another night.

They were standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Ginny could see Harry and Ron--no Hermione? sitting down for breakfast. Everyone was very subdued, and Ginny suddenly realized that Harry and Ron couldn't be older than twelve--this must be her first year. And there she was, walking over to the Gryffindor table, pale and trembling.

_Was I really that thin?_ part of her asked.

Ginny moved closer to her younger self, suddenly remembering when and where she was. This was when she'd realized that she was the one attacking all those people, that Tom Riddle was nothing more than an evil creature.

"I've got to tell you something," mumbled her younger self, rocking back and forth on the bench.

"What is it?" said Harry.

When Ginny didn't respond, Ron chimed in, "What?"

Younger-Ginny's mouth opened, but she didn't speak. Ginny remembered how very afraid she'd been, afraid that Harry would turn her in to Dumbledore, or that she'd be expelled and sent to Azkaban. But she'd so wanted to tell someone. Anything was better than knowing you were being possessed.

Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Then, exactly as it was in Ginny's memories, Percy came striding up, asked for her seat, and she fled.

Beside her, Ginny heard present-Harry saying, "Why didn't you follow her, you idiot? She could have told you what was going on, and then she never would have been taken to the Chamber--she nearly died, you fool!" The emotion in his voice was strong.

Ginny never knew that Harry had cared so much. She thought that he'd only done it for Ron.

Before she could get too carried away with remembrances and rumninations, a little voice in her head reminded her that she was supposed to be getting Harry out of these nightmares.

She grabbed his arm as the scene changed. "Harry!" she shouted. "Harry, I am real! I've come to take you back..." But her voice trailed off as the next scene formed. Her arm dropped from Harry's.

They were once again at Hogwarts, and it was nighttime. Ron, limping, and Professor Lupin--_this must my second year_--had a small balding man chained between them, and they were followed by Professor Snape, who was unconscious and being levitated by none other than Sirius Black. _Black?_ The convict? The man who had killed twelve Muggles with one curse and was now thought to be hiding in Iran? But there was Harry, right behind him, accompanied by Hermione.

"One wrong move, Peter," said Lupin, in the most threatening voice Ginny had ever heard him use, pointing his wand at the bald man's chest.

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight, and Ginny suddenly remembered Snape's words at breakfast two years ago... "Lupin forgot to take his potion last night; I suspect he was with the other werewolves in the forest last night..." Ginny could recall all too clearly the silence that had fallen over the Hall as Snape gazed, unperturbed, at the shocked group of Slytherins he was talking too. "Oh, you hadn't figured it out yet? I would have thought any students in _my_ house would have known ages ago..." And then the babble of talk had broken out to cover the awkward moment, and everyone became fascinated by the eggs and bacon in front of them.

"Oh, why didn't you kill him?" she heard Harry beside her. _Who was he talking about?_ she wondered silently.

Ginny could hear Black yelling at Harry to run, but Harry was trying to get at Ron, who was chained to Lupin--then Black transformed. _He's an Animagus_ she realized, recognizing the huge black dog that had been around the grounds that year.

Lupin was snarling as he transformed. It was horrible to watch. The huge dog bounded forward, seized the werewolf about the neck and pulled it backwards, away from Ron and the other man. They fought, jaw to jaw.

Then Hermione screamed, and Ginny saw the strange man grab Lupin's dropped wand and stun Ron with a bang. Another bang, and Crookshanks, whom Ginny hadn't seen at first, went flying through the air, hissing and spitting, and landed in a heap.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry shouted, and the wand flew out of the stranger's hand. "Stay where you are!" Harry yelled, running forward.

Then the man disappeared, and Ginny realized he, too, was an Animagus. _Scabbers?_ Ginny recognized the rat. This was getting stranger and stranger.

Ginny watched, completely at a loss, as Lupin went howling into the forest.

"Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!" Harry yelled. _Pettigrew?_ Ginny thought, then remembered the other name... _Peter Pettigrew? Why is that familiar? Wait, didn't Mum tell me some stories when I was little...?_ But her memories refused to cooperate. She focused on the images.

The dog, who had been lying on the ground, bleeding and panting, scrambled up again and disappeared into the forest.

"You fool," Harry said to Ginny's left. Ginny turned, and remembered her mission. It was hard, she realized, to keep track of what was real and what wasn't.

"Harry, you have to come with me. We need you at Hogwarts!" she said urgently.

"No, you're not real!"

The scene changed again, and Ginny realized they were back in the graveyard. So they were recurring! This meant that it should work! "Please, Harry!" she implored. "Why would I appear in your dreams?"

"You always do," he said, matter-of-factly.

Ginny felt rather flattered, but quickly thought the better of pursuing that line of conversation.

"But I'm not usually telling you to come back with me, am I?"

But Harry wasn't listening. He was watching his memory self and Cedric scramble up from the Portkey to look around.

"Harry! Pay attention!" Ginny shouted.

Harry ignored her, tears forming again.

Ginny realized how painful this must be, constantly being forced to relive the memories of things that hadn't gone right. Three very specific memories of moments that could have gone so differently if he'd just done something else... She watched, incapable of acting, as Cedric was killed yet again.

The scene shifted to the Great Hall.

"Harry, please, what can I do to convince you it's me?" Ginny asked desperately.

Harry just shrugged and watched her younger self rock back and forth on the bench.

"I remember this one, too, Harry," she said. "I remember being so afraid that you'd be angry with me and never think of me as anything but a stupid little girl... and I couldn't let Percy know, since he'd tell Mum and Dad, and then I'd be taken home for sure..." She knew she was rambling, but she had to keep talking. Maybe it would distract him.

The scene shifted.

"Tell me about this, Harry," she said. "Even if I'm not real, it won't hurt to talk to someone, will it?"

Noot looking at her, Harry began to tell, in an expressionless voice, the story of how he, Ron, and Hermione had gone down to see Hagrid before Buckbeak's execution, but then they'd found Scabbers, who'd run into the Willow--

"Scabbers? Ron's old rat? Is that who the man turned into?" she asked.

Harry finally turned to her and looked at her. "Yes," he said shortly, looking into her eyes for a moment. "You might be my Ginny," he finally conceded. "But I can't be sure, so I can't trust you."

_Okay,_ Ginny thought. _He may be going crazy, but it's a start._

"Tell me more," she said.

So Harry continued to tell about how the dog had grabbed Ron and taken him to the Shrieking Shack--

but then the scene changed back into the graveyard.

"No, Harry!" Ginny cried as Harry stopped talking. "Don't watch it again! It'll only drag you in further!"

With a visible wrench, Harry turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. "Ginny?" he asked, in a small voice, which cracked with tension.

"Yes, Harry," she said softly. "It is me."

"I can't be sure..." he mumbled. "It's all so dream-like."

"It is a dream, Harry. You're trapped inside your own mind--reliving memories." _Now we're getting somewhere,_ she thought.

"So tell me more about Sirius Black," she said, realizing that she needed to keep him distracted.

"Oh, so Snape came into the Shack with my invisibility cloak, and then we stunned him--me, Ron, and Hermione--and then Lupin and Black performed a spell to show Pettigrew--Sirius Black's innocent, by the way..."

Ginny no longer understood much of what he was saying, but at least he was talking. She gently took a hold of his elbow. _Maybe,_ she thought with a sudden insight, I can keep him talking to me and steal him back... It was a definite possibility.

"You see," Harry was saying, "Peter Pettigrew actually killed all those Muggles. Sirius was completely innocent--and he wasn't my parents' Secret-Keeper, either, that was Pettigrew--and Pettigrew had been staying with you Weasleys as Scabbers for twelve years. Lupin and Sirius made Pettigrew turn back from his rat form to his human form, and he told us that he'd been on Voldemort's side, and they wanted to kill him right then and there..." Harry trailed off, watching the rat run into the forest. "And it's my fault they didn't, my fault he was able to get away..." he choked.

"No, it isn't!" said Ginny, not really knowing what she was talking about.

"But I told them not to!" he cried, sobbing on her shoulder. "And then Wormtail was able to run into the forest, and get to Albania, and find Voldemort..."

"Wormtail?" Ginny asked. At least he was looking at her now.

"Nicknames they had when they were all at Hogwarts--Moony, that's Lupin--Padfoot, Sirius--Wormtail, Pettigrew--and Prongs, my father..." he trailed off again, as the graveyard reappeared.

"And there's Wormtail again," he said, pointing at the cloaked man. Then he seemed to come to himself with a shudder. "These are recurring, aren't they?" he asked Ginny.

Ginny could have sobbed with relief. She nodded.

"Are you really my Ginny?" he asked in a small, uncertain voice.

"Yes, I'm your Ginny," she said, her throat dry.

"Then take me home," he said, childlike, holding his arms out to her.

Ginny held him close and wished them up, up, back into the real world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Afterwards, and The Plot Thickens Again**

Voices--there were voices.

"Why can't we see her?" "Let me see my sister!" Loud, angry, from far away.

"Where's Pomfrey?" Sharp, scathing.

"Here, Severus. Really, don't shout." Quick, purposeful.

"Child, can you hear me?" Quiet, close. Gentle.

"What's going on in there?" "Is she back?" "Did she get him?" Babble, still far away.

A bright light pierced through her eyelids, and she shut them tight. "Too bright..." Ginny mumbled. "Too loud..."

"Someone turn down the lights!" That purposeful voice again.

"And shut the door, Miss Granger! You're a prefect, control them!" The scathing, biting voice.

"_Nox_."

A slam. Some unintelligible words in a high female voice.

Quiet.

Much better now. Definitely better.

Ginny opened her eyes and saw a kindly face with piercing blue eyes and a long silver beard peering down at her. Half-moon spectacles, crooked nose. _I know who he is. I'm sure of it..._

"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked croakily.

"Ahh, Miss Weasley, you are back."

The events of the past hour flooded through her and she sat up abruptly. "Harry!" she gasped, as the world swam in front of her. "Where's Harry?"

"Sleeping normally, Miss Weasley." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Congratulations."

"Oh, good..." She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

When Ginny awoke next, it was nighttime. The infirmary was deserted, except for the bed next to her. _Harry._

He was lying down, but his eyes were open, facing her.

"You're awake," he said. His voice was rusty.

"So're you," she grinned.

He didn't smile.

"You okay?" she asked, feeling a little silly.

"Why did you bring me back?"

"Huh?" Ginny didn't know what to do. To be honest, she'd expected some form of gratitude, not this hostile, sullen boy who was now sitting on the side of his bed, staring at her accusingly.

_"Why did you bring me back?"_ It was spat, angrily and viciously.

"I--er--what do you mean?" Where was the Boy Who Lived, whom she had Saved From A Most Terrible Fate and was now supposed to at least appreciate her, if not Love Her For All Eternity? Yes, she was a bit selfish for even thinking this, but this was most definitely Weird.

Harry got out of bed, his feet bare, and placed his hands menacingly on the side of her cot. It didn't help that he was now quite tall and that her cot was only a foot or two off the ground.

The cot wobbled. She shivered.

"Did it _ever_ occur to you that I might not _want_ to wake up?" he whispered, biting off each word.

Ginny closed her eyes. She had to be dreaming. The Harry she'd talked to in the Pensieve was nothing like this--this _monster_ now leaning over her threateningly.

"Answer me!" He might have well shouted, for all the anger he managed to put into his whisper.

Ginny shook. "No..." she breathed, gazing into his twisted face with uncomprehending fear.

There was a long pause while he stared at her, his impossibly green eyes almost glowing with rage. "Damn you," he muttered. He pulled out his wand and she gasped.

It was too late. _"Crucio!"_

It was like white-hot knives into every inch of her flesh, burning, twisting. Her nerves shrieked and her voice echoed, the cries of pain ricocheting off the walls and ceiling of the infirmary. She fell to the stone floor, the impact sending waves of pain coursing through her bones.

Somewhere far away, she registered Harry standing over her, his wand pointed at her, while he laughed. He _laughed_, a high, cold laugh that reminded her far too forcefully of Tom Riddle.

Then there were running footsteps, slamming doors, and cries of _"Stupefy!"_ mingled with the laughter and her screams.

Ginny whimpered and curled up into a ball on the floor as the curse left her. Aching all over, she just wanted to sink into comfortable oblivion.

"My God, Albus! It's Harry!" exclaimed McGonngall, who reached them first.

"Stop!" Dumbledore ordered sharply.

McGonngall's bedtime slippers--tartan, Ginny noticed, in a red fog--stopped a few feet from her.

"Keep out of the pentagram!" His voice carried more power than Ginny had ever heard in a human voice.

"The pentagram? Oh, gods, the pentagram..." Professor McGonngall's voice trailed off in horror as she picked up Harry and deposited him just outside the glowing line on the floor.

What was it Dumbledore had said about the pentagram? Ginny's pain-overloaded mind tried to recall the pentagram...

Oh, yes--to keep the _other_ out. Nicholas and His Demon, that bedtime story.

Ginny's mind fought the rising panic. _Demons_ and _I'm inside the pentagram_ swirled around her mind, blocking out all rational thoughts. She could feel the tightness in her chest beginning, and her breathing became rapid as the tears fell. _That was Tom._ A choked sob echoed into the silence.

_"Mobilicorpus."_ Dumbledore levitated her out of the pentagram and onto a bed, far away from the pentagram.

"Get Pomfrey," he ordered. McGonagall hurried away, her slippers shuffling.

As he neared the bed, Ginny shut her eyes, ashamed of her weakness.

"Miss Weasley?" he asked gently.

She could only shake. The blankets tucked themselves around her.

"That wasn't Harry, Miss Weasley."

Her breath came in shuddering gasps before she could manage, "I know," into the pillow.

There was a long silence, then Dumbledore reached out and put a hand on her back. She stiffened. "Still in pain?" he asked quietly.

Ginny could only nod. "Madame Pomfrey should be here soon--ah, Poppy, good."

"Albus--what happened?"

"Cruciatus."

Ginny couldn't see it, but memories of her previous stays in the Hospital Wing filled in the picture of Madam Pomfrey's thin-lipped expression. "You can tell me how later. Out, Albus!" she barked. "I will fetch you when she can talk!"

"Wait," Ginny said, her voice sounding strange.

"Yes?" asked Dumbledore, pausing on his way to the door.

"Please don't tell Ron about--about Harry..." she asked, meeting his gaze.

He studied her briefly, then nodded once and continued out the door.

"Now, Miss Weasley, drink this..." Ginny surrendered herself to Madam Pomfrey's ministrations.

Ginny awoke sometime during the day feeling much better, though weak. She rather thought someone had been holding her hand and had let go the moment she stirred. She turned.

"Hi, Ginny." It was Neville.

"Oh, hi, Neville!" She was very glad it wasn't Ron or Hermione, or worse, Harry.

"Are you--are you doing okay?" he asked. "You slept through all of Sunday..." He sounded slightly concerned.

"Uh, yeah, I'm doing okay." She glanced at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked.

"I'm skipping." He looked positively impish.

"Neville!" Although the impishness was really cute...

"Dumbledore said I could!" he replied petulantly. "Besides, it's History of Magic, and--"

She glared at him.

"Oh, that's right, you _like_ History of Magic." He looked at her as though she were from another planet.

Ginny felt a deep-seated happiness wash over her. It was nice, being with Neville. He was completely unthreatening, completely unassuming, and completely un-famous. And completely unrelated to her.

"I'm glad you're here, Neville," she said suddenly.

He smiled, a rather nice smile, she thought.

"Look, Neville," she began seriously, "what did Dumbledore tell everyone?"

"About Saturday night?" She nodded. "Well, he said that you'd managed to get Harry back, you'd been through a lot, and you were recovering."

"Then how did you manage to get down here?"

"Actually, Dumbledore asked me just outside of class if I wanted to. I was running late already--couldn't find my socks--and Binns probably wouldn't miss me anyways. I'll get notes from Hermione, if I need to."

"So Ron wasn't around?"

He looked surprised at her urgent tone. "No, actually. It was just us two in the corridor. Funny, now that you mention it, why isn't Ron here? I mean, he's your brother..."

Ginny gestured for Neville to lean closer. "Promise me you won't tell anyone about this," she said in a low voice. He nodded fervently. She checked the Infirmary. There was no one there, not even Harry. "Last night, Harry put Cruciatus on me."

Neville went completely white. "Harry?" he squeaked.

"Well, I think it was To--a--a demon" she didn't want to tell him who she _really_ thought it was "in Harry's body--they forgot to erase the pentagram when we came back through, and some..._thing_ came back with him." She shuddered, remembering those glowing eyes.

"Oh, Ginny..." he breathed.

She found herself rambling. "It was like knives in my skin--and it wouldn't stop, even when he was stunned. It was horrible. I just wanted to curl up and _die_." She gulped and continued, "And the worst part of it was that he looked like Harry, sounded like Harry, and--gods--even _smelled_ like him. But then, when he laughed--I knew it wasn't Harry. It was like first year, all over again..."

Neville reached over and hugged her. "I know," he said softly, after a minute or two. "I know how it is."

She pulled away. "How can you know?" she asked, suddenly angry. "How can you know what it's like to see the world you took for granted turned into your worst nightmare?"

"Because that's what happened to my parents," he said simply.

She looked at him in amazement, suddenly comprehending. "You live with your grandmother!" she breathed. "What happened? Are they--"

"They're in St. Mungo's. They don't recognize me. They're timid and shy and the most Mum does is give me Drooble's wrappers. I have a jar in my room full of them. Gran doesn't like it, but it's the only connection I have."

Ginny gazed at him in horror.

"They were tortured," he continued. "Some old Death Eaters thought my father knew where You-Know-Who was, and tortured him... and when he wouldn't tell, they turned on Mum... I was watching through the door, they didn't know I was there... she screamed and screamed, and they kept hitting her with it whenever she said she didn't know." His gaze was faraway. "No blood, Ginny. There was never any blood, just the screams. They went on and on, for eternity. And there was one Death Eater that kept laughing... he never used his wand, I guess he was keeping watch, he was real young... but he just watched and _laughed_..."

They held each other tightly for a long time.

By afternoon, Ginny was feeling much better. Lunch with Neville, plus their chat, made her feel ready to face Dumbledore, so she went up to his office. He was sitting behind his desk, drinking tea, and reading through a stack of papers as high as her bed in Gryffindor tower. When she took a seat, nervously, he glanced up and smiled.

"Miss Weasley," he said, twinkling. "Would you like to talk to me?"

"Uh, yes, Professor Dumbledore," she said, suddenly nervous.

"Tea?" he asked, as she shifted in her chair.

"No thanks, sir," she said. _It's now or never,_ she thought grimly, and began.

The whole of the Pensieve experience, plus the incidents afterward, took perhaps a quarter hour to relate, and Dumbledore was quiet the entire time, nodding and listening closely. When she finished, he set down his tea and stood up.

"I am glad that you were able to convince him to return, Miss Weasley, and your hypothesis is correct--that was indeed an echo of Voldemort. He must have followed Harry through the Pensieve, and when the pentagram was left intact, he could enter. Unfortunately, both of you were inside it." He stroked Fawkes, who was looking a little tattered, absently.

"Sir?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Did you hide Neville's socks this morning?"

He twinkled at her. "I rather thought that Mr. Longbottom's company would be welcome."

Ginny nodded, a faint smile at the corners of her mouth. "And what--what do my parents know?"

"I will write them to explain that you managed to pull Harry out of his coma through hard work, and your Special Award for Services to the School will be engraved by the end of November."

A small measure of pride flooded her. And relief, that her parents wouldn't know how much she'd risked--and what Harry _(no, Ginny!__ Voldemort!)_ had done.

"Sir?" she asked again. "Where is he? Harry, I mean?"

"In McGonagall's office. He spent Sunday sleeping, under close surveillance."

"Can I--can I talk to him?"

"If you would like, I will go get him," Dumbledore replied calmly.

She thought hard for a minute. On the one hand, she was sure it would be a very healthy thing to do. On the other, seeing those green eyes again... she wasn't so sure. "Will you please stay with us?" she asked finally.

He nodded, and left the office. Ginny gazed around, and went over to Fawkes. "Close to Burning?" she asked him softly. He made a soft noise, and the knot in her stomach began to unwind. His head nudged her palm and she obediently stroked him, relaxing slightly. The door opened, and Ginny jumped.

Harry entered the room, dressed in Muggle clothes. He didn't meet her eye as he took a chair near Dumbledore's desk. Ginny wondered briefly for a minute at the clothes, but figured she could ask him later. For now, she just needed answers.

Dumbledore faded gently into the background as Ginny girded her loins (such as they were) and approached Harry. _It wasn't him,_ she told herself firmly. _It was Tom, not Harry._

She opened her mouth, but Harry spoke first. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said quickly, the words spilling out. "I don't know what happened--one moment I was falling off my broom, with Voldemort in my head, then the next I woke up next to you, angry..." He trailed off, clearly horrified.

All the speeches Ginny had been mentally rehearsing left her in that moment. "You don't remember it?" she whispered. "Me and you, in the Pensieve, those visions...?"

Harry shook his head, then spoke quickly. "I'm leaving this school," he said. "Voldemort's coming after me, and I don't want to put yo--anyone in danger again." His voice was cold and stony.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that I will not allow it," Dumbledore interrupted. "You will stay, and continue your classes, and, yes, take your O.W.L.s in the spring along with your classmates." He waved aside Harry's stammers of protestation. "I will not let you leave Hogwarts until you are a trained wizard. You will not run away from this, Harry," he said sternly.

"But--I put _Cruciatus_ on Ginny!" he exclaimed.

"You didn't," Dumbledore insisted. "_Voldemort did._"

"But it was me!" Harry was becoming hysterical. "There wasn't any Imperius--I was just angry because--because--I don't even know why, now! But Voldemort was nowhere near me! And if Ron knows that I put an Unforgivable on his sister, he'll kill me!"

"You were possessed," said Dumbledore firmly. "If you ask Miss Granger, I am confident she will inform you of the key signs of possession, one of which is _believing__ your actions to be reasonable at the time._ You are not responsible for your actions, Mr. Potter, and I will not let you leave this school." He regarded Harry for a moment, his blue eyes burning into Harry's sullen green ones. "Furthermore, you are out of uniform. You will find McGonagall waiting for you outside my office. Dismissed."

Harry stared at him for a minute, then looked at Ginny, imploring her with his eyes to let him go. For her part, she thought it was selfish of Harry to run away and let Voldemort come after him alone. Didn't he realize that the entire wizarding world relied on him as a symbol of goodness, as a symbol of Voldemort's mortality? That because Harry had once lived, while Voldemort fell, Harry was the only thing standing between them and panic? If Harry left to fight Voldemort alone, he would not live. He had survived in the past, yes, but only because Hogwarts was there to protect him. Fawkes brought him the sword in the Chamber of Secrets. The Portkey tuned to the school was the only reason he got away last spring. And, if the stories Ron told her were true, Dumbledore himself had saved Harry from his own magical efforts to kill Quirrel-_cum_-Voldemort in his first year.

"You're not leaving, Harry," she said resolutely.

His expression flickered into anger for a minute before settling into one of stony blankness. He turned and left.

**Author Notes:** Thanks to all the reviews I've gotten! Feel free to give me suggestions, comments, criticism, anything. I live for your thoughts. bows


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: ****Time****Passes**** and Nothing Big Happens. Yet.**

Ginny's return Tuesday morning was punctuated by whispers in the hallways, curious looks, and flurries of gossip as she and Harry took seats as far as possible from each other at the breakfast table.

When she'd returned to the Common Room the night before, Harry was nowhere to be found. Fred and George, blessed brothers, managed to engage her in a game of their newest joke: Exploding Snape. The cards didn't just blow up in front of you, they left a thin film of oil in your hair and shouted, "FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR," as they singed your eyebrows. She felt quite steadied by the time she had to go to bed.

Classes were another thing. Everyone wanted her to tell them what happened--since Harry was obviously awake and back in classes, too, she'd been successful. For a while she just said, "I don't want to talk about it now," and pointed out that she needed to get to class, or that it was the middle of a lecture, so she could get away with that. But even her professors were treating her with curiosity. Dumbledore must have managed to tell them some version of events that made both Flitwick and Bernie Rudolph, the old Muggle Studies professor, ask her gently after class if there was anything she needed. Their niceness was even more wearing than the ugly looks she was getting from a few other students.

The Slytherins in particular seemed annoyed. Draco Malfoy tripped her on her way to lunch. "Sorry, Weasley, didn't see you--must have been _dreaming!_" Ursula Gantry, her own year, "accidentally" spilled her ink bottle all over Ginny's Muggle Studies homework--fortunately, the Rudolph told her that she could redo the essay whenever she was ready. But it had been a four foot essay explaining her theory of why cars were the preferred transportation mode for so many Muggles, and she wasn't sure if she even remembered her thesis statement.

And Cho simply pretended she didn't exist.

She was cornered after lunch by a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, mostly third and second years:

"Come on, Ginny, what happened?"

"Dumbledore's not telling us anything--just that you got him out..."

"He looks so tired--"

"C'mon, Gin, tell!"

"All right!" she sighed. "I went down into the Pensieve--he was dreaming, but I can't really remember details, just images, like things from school--and we talked. He didn't believe that I was real, but I convinced him to come back with me. That's it, really," she shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal, honestly."

The group looked disappointed at the serious lack of wizard duelling, and straggled off to class.

"Highly edited, that was," said a soft voice in her ear. It was Harry.

"I--I didn't want them to know all the details..." she stammered.

"'The devil is in the details'," he said. "It's a muggle saying."

He turned to go. "Wait!" she cried out. He stopped, but didn't turn.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ginny," he said quietly, and left.

Harry became more and more distant over the next month. Ron and Hermione, who had reached some sort of mutual understanding that they were in love but still found the other annoying, tried to bring him out of his shell, but couldn't. Even Fred and George were unable to do anything. Harry simply went to his classes, did his work, and went to bed.

And he dropped off the Quidditch team. "I need to study for my O.W.L.s," he told Ron, handing him his Quidditch robes.

Ron, who was still quite clueless, was thoroughly disappointed. "But you're the best Seeker we've ever had, Harry! We can't lose you!"

"I can't do it, Ron," said Harry. "Use Ginny, she's good." And he left to go to the library.

Ron turned to Ginny, who'd been watching the conversation from a corner of the Common Room. "Hermione's finally gotten to him, I guess," he said.

Ginny wanted to punch him, but settled on a grunt.

So Ginny added Quidditch practice to her list of things to do. She liked Quidditch, of course, but it felt _strange_ being on the team without Harry there. She'd always fancied herself as becoming a Chaser or a Beater when the original group--Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia--left, and a lot of positions opened up. It wasn't right, Ginny felt, to be hovering over the pitch where Harry used to fly, watching for the Snitch. She was good, yes, but Harry should be there. He lived to fly.

The first match with Hufflepuff was over almost before it began--Ginny caught the Snitch before the Hufflepuff Seeker, poor thing, even turned around to dive. A hundred and eighty to zero. She felt sick afterwards.

Halloween came and went, with nothing special happening for once. A feast, some homework, and the next day of classes.

That weekend, they all trooped down to Hogsmeade. Harry almost managed to get himself left behind, but Hermione told him that it was too early to study for the O.W.L.s and Ron promised to buy him a butterbeer, and hex him if he didn't go. So Harry went.

Ginny and her friends trailed behind them. Mela and Zoe were going on about some Ravenclaw boy in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, while Colin and Ingrid teased them mercilessly. Ginny let the conversations wash over her as she watched the trio in front of them.

Ron and Hermione were walking on either side of Harry, almost like an escort. It was clear from their head movements that they were trying to start conversations with him, but he simply shrugged, or shook his head, and they would fall silent. When they reached The Three Broomsticks, Harry shuffled over to a booth, sat down, and gazed around. His eyes caught Ginny's as her group found a large table for themselves. There was a flicker of something--sadness? regret?--but then they went blank, and she saw him thank Ron for the butterbeer.

"Ginny, want anything?" It was Ingrid.

"Uh--sure, a butterbeer, whatever."

"You doing okay, Gin?" asked Colin.

"Yeah, I'm--" she wanted to say "fine," but couldn't. "I'm just worried about Harry," she admitted to him quietly. Mela and Zoe were still talking about boys--Ginny thought this one was the Hufflepuff in Charms with the blue eyes. She leaned over to him. "Come talk to me in the library tonight, okay?" He nodded, clearly excited.

"Is it about--y'know--that night?" he asked.

Ginny nodded slightly, and turned to thank Ingrid for the butterbeer.

Confiding in Colin certainly made her feel better. He promised not to breathe a word of it--his abilities to keep a secret, once completely nonexistent, were now quite formidable. He traded silly gossip, like how Stuart Ackerley turned his owl blue once, or that some Slytherin had walked in on McGonnagall in a bathroom stall. But he'd keep mum if she asked.

November came and went--Snape gave a particularly nasty test on antidotes, Flitwick taught them Summoning Spells, and Hagrid was reported to have hatched a cross between a dragon and a dog--it breathed fire, but had fur, and was "only" six feet long--for now.

Around the first week of December, Ginny looked up in the Great Hall to see Errol fluttering haphazardly toward her. _Oh, dear_, she thought, trying to clear a space for him to land. Hastily moving the milk jug, the bowl of eggs, and the platter of bacon, she thought she'd succeeded--but he managed to land face first into Neville's bowl of porridge, two places down.

Neville moaned at his oatmeal-splattered robes. "Sorry, Neville," she called out. "It's for me."

"If I'm late to Potions, Snape'll give me detention, and it'll be all your fault," he grumbled, getting up and leaving the table. He passed her the letter, which had a few spots on it, as he left.

The letter was long and rambling, and Ginny munched on her toast as she read through the latest of her father's escapades, that Percy was warming up a bit to Arthur, and that Bill was going to be coming home for Christmas, bringing a guest. The last paragraph, though, made her choke:

_Let me know if you're coming home for the holidays, too, so I can clear up your room (Arthur's been storing some things in there). And talk to Harry and Hermione to see if they want to come--since Percy's room is free, we'll be able to have you all over. Love, Mum._

She didn't want to talk to Harry--Ron could handle Hermione--but she had to. Weasley courtesy dictated no less.

And there he was, just on the other side of where Neville had been, pushing eggs around his plate. "Harry," she called down the table at him.

He glanced up at her. "What is it?" he asked, sounding bored.

"My mother's invited you to the Burrow for the holidays. Are you going to come?"

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

Well, _that_ was an anticlimax.

"And I want each and every one of you to prepare a two roll research paper--NOT an essay, this should be well thought out and cited properly!--on the effects of slow-acting venoms when improperly countered. Dismissed."

The class stifled groans as Snape let them go on the last day of term. "What's biting him?" asked Colin as they left the Potions dungeon.

"He's been so much nastier than usual since Ginny--" Ginny shot Ingrid a look. "Since that thing with Harry."

"Well, everyone knows he hates Harry, and that he hated Harry's father," put in Mela.

"You think he wanted Harry to stay dead?"

"Colin! That's not nice!" said Ingrid.

"Wouldn't you like to know," drawled a voice nearby.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley." He smirked. "_Everyone's_ been talking about how famous Harry Potter owes his life to you, Weasley. Did you know that?"

Ginny glared at him. "So?" Beside her, she could see her friends gripping their wands.

Malfoy smirked again. "I'd be careful if I were you, Weasley."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Zoe.

"People are noticing you now, Weasley--not just your brother, the friend of famous Harry Potter. They're talking about the love of Harry Potter, the girl who convinced him to live, Weasley. And your family can't really _afford_ it, can they? Although I hear Percy's doing well--according to my father." Having said his piece, Malfoy smirked and walked away.

"Weird," said Ingrid.

"Definitely," agreed Mela.

"That git," said Zoe, whose wandgrip was still tight.

"You don't think he's threatening you, Ginny?" asked Colin worriedly, as the others drew ahead..

Ginny shook her head confidently. "I think he's just being arrogant and trying to make fun of my family," she said.

But his words had struck deeper than that. Once again, she worried about Percy. His latest letters had been disturbing.

_Ginny--_

_They've promoted me, finally. I'm Fudge's personal assistant now. I hope Father's proud of me._

_I worry about him--obsessed with Muggles, ignoring the real issues at stake today. All this terror Dumbledore's started, what with the rumor of You-Know-Who back again. I work closely with Fudge, and we're having a lot of Howlers about damaged property--people wanting reimbursement for things that have been destroyed--and everyone's claiming to see the Dark Mark. It's ridiculous!_

_Anyways, I can't say much--classified Ministry business, of course, but do write back. I might stop by for Christmas dinner. Will Hermione be there?_

_Your brother,_

_Percy._

Ginny reread the letter after dinner that night, struck by something odd, though she couldn't tell what.

_"Veritas,"_ she murmured, touching the tip of her wand to the parchment. The parchment glowed green, then subsided. Nothing wrong there--he wasn't lying.

_"Pathos Aparecium,"_ she tried next. Words formed at the bottom of the page: _Arrogant and righteous, but affectionate. Truly concerned about someone's welfare. Nervous._

_Nervous._ Now that was interesting. Why would Percy be nervous? Probably about Dad.

One more spell, then bedtime. Just to see if he'd erased anything while writing. _"Aparecium."_ Words rearranged themselves--it was a much longer letter now:

_Ginny--_

_Thank Merlin, they've promoted me, finally! I'm Fudge's personal assistant, now. I hope Father's proud of me--he always seems to be, but lately he's been secretive, especially around Fudge. I shouldn't tell you this, but Father's job is at risk because of his behavior. Fudge is trying his best to keep track of everything, which means having access to all the files, but Father refuses to give his codes._

_I worry about him--obsessed with Muggles, ignoring the real issues at stake today. All this terror Dumbledore's started, what with the rumor of the Dark Lord back again. I work closely with Fudge, now, and we're having a lot of Howlers about damaged property--people wanting reimbursement for things that have been destroyed--and everyone's claiming to see the Dark Mark. It's ridiculous! Just like the Quidditch World Cup, all over again. At least Fred and George aren't putting "fertilizer" in my inbox. They need to grow up, or something serious could happen to them._

_Anyways, I can't say much--classified Ministry business, of course, but do write back. I might stop by for Christmas dinner. I will _not_ stay in that house for the holidays, or else we'll have a real war on our hands. I heard Mother invited Harry and Hermione. Will Hermione be there?_

_Oh, and about Draco Malfoy--his father's been helping us sort through letters requesting reimbursements, since he knows so many people--and Lucius, who really does so much for our society, has told me that Draco has mentioned you fondly many times in his letters._

_Your brother,_

_Percy_

Ginny stared. Something was wrong here. And some things were clicking into place.

If Fudge was trying to get at Dad's files--but why would he need to? Misuse of Muggle Artifacts? Ginny couldn't see any reason why Fudge would even care about Dad's work. And that talk about Fred and George--_something serious could happen to them._ She shuddered. Hopefully Percy had erased that when he realized how scary it sounded. And the other little things he'd erased added up to a very different picture of Percy's mindset at the time--and how could he be warming up to Dad, according to Mum, if he held him in such disdain? Hopefully, it was just a case of overwork. Hopefully.

The Burrow was covered in snow when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived. They'd had to catch a taxi from King's Cross in London, and they were very tired when they arrived in the village. Thankfully her parents were there to help carry trunks, or she'd have collapsed from exhaustion.

Harry and Ron were sharing a room, as were Ginny and Hermione again. Bill was in Percy's room, and his "guest" turned out to be Fleur Delacour, from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The twins had volunteered to let her stay in their room, but her mother, unsurprisingly, had put her foot down and erected a Privacy Tent just off the living room. Two flights down from where Bill was staying.

Fleur and Bill could both climb stairs.

Ginny groaned as she heard the creaks, yet again. Third night in a row! Hopefully, they'd be going down to Fleur's tent, instead of staying Percy's room--that way, she wouldn't hear the muffled noises filtering up. Why wouldn't they just cast a Silencing Charm!

But it seemed they were staying in the room, and Fleur was giggling softly. Ginny sighed, knew she would hate herself for this, and got out of bed. Hermione was such a heavy sleeper that Ginny's "oof!" when she stubbed her toe on the girl's cot didn't wake her. No wonder she was sleeping through it.

She tiptoed down the single flight of stairs between her room and Percy's. The giggling was louder from the stairs--and she could hear words, now.

"So, I told him, he'd have to make me leave." Giggle. "And then he said, in this growly voice, 'You mortals, you are arrogant and weak.' And I took out my wand, did _this_"--Fleur giggled--"and he vanished." Bill snorted. "Apparently he'd forgotten about wizards and banishing charms. So I grabbed the vase and ran for it. Good thing, too, since his buddies came after me, and I only lost them at the door to the pyramid."

At least it was decent talk. She'd heard that one before, about the ghoul in Cairo.

"Vairee funnee, Bill," said Fleur, with a tinkling laugh.

"Anyways, though, I wanted to ask if you read that letter Dumbledore sent you." Bill's voice was suddenly serious.

"Oh, _non_ I deed not get one," replied Fleur. The giggle was gone.

"Someone must have intercepted it, then. Anyway, Dumbledore says it's only a matter of time before he goes for Harry again--and he thinks it won't just be Harry. He's scared for all the students, especially on the Hogsmeade weekends. After Christmas, there'll be some Aurors around the school--not Fudge's Aurors, but those loyal to Dumbledore. I don't know how your French Ministry is taking this--"

"Zey know he ees back, _oui_, but zey are not acting." Ginny heard a disdainful sniff. "Zey think it ees only ze British who are in dangair."

Bill cursed.

"But zey have put more guards around Beauxbatons, and have eemproved ze--how do you call zem--Defense Against ze Dark Arts lessons."

"Well, that's something," muttered Bill. "Will they come to our aid if we need it?"

"I am not sure. Eet seems zey will, but zey do not want to be so--obvious. We are too close to Russia." Ginny shifted uncomfortably on the landing, and the floorboards squeaked. Her heart hammered as footsteps approached the door, which flew open before she could even begin to run for it.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Bill. "What are you doing up so late?" He had closed the door behind him, so Ginny couldn't see Fleur.

"I--uh--that is--"

"Spit it out," he said, not unkindly.

"I heard noises when Fleur came into your room again and was coming down to tell you to shut it when I heard what you were saying and it was so interesting I had to listen," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, _Ginny_--how much did you hear?"

"After the story about the ghoul--it was the one in Cairo, right?--everything."

"You shouldn't have heard it, Ginny." Bill was pulling out his wand. "I really don't want to do it, but it's Dumbledore's orders if we're overheard."

"Wait--!"

_"Obliviate."_

**Author Notes:** I stole Exploding Snape from someone--please, own up, so I can commend you! Thanks to my first reviewers: mochabinkie, celestine de karamel, Michael M, Katherine K, Sunshine Stargirl, TrixieFirecracker, Antigone Q, GinnyPotter, Arctic-Aurora-Dragon, met19, Garnie-chan, BookMaster 3000, Jayme05, darkcherry, Neni Potter, Little Skittles, Darcel, and fishy. Special thanks to those of you who post multiple reviews! Nice to know you're out there, reading each new chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Things Finally Happen.**

_"Obliviate."_

The word registered and rattled around for an eternity that spanned a hundredth of a second--_Obliviate--Obliviate--Obliviate._ She ducked just in time.

"Ginny!" exploded Bill, sounding halfway frustrated and halfway proud.

"I'm a Seeker, remember? Quidditch reflexes," she said, rolling over on the ground. "Don't do that again!"

"Gin, I've got to--Dumbledore's orders!"

"Bill?" It was Fleur, opening the door, fully clothed. "What ees going on?"

"It's my little sister," Bill explained. Ginny could almost see Weasley courtesy turning on in his head, overriding the situation. Plus, she was family. "Ginny, this is Fleur Delacour. Fleur, this is my little sister, Ginny."

_"Enchantée,"_ said Fleur, dropping a little curtsey. "But what ees she doing here?"

"Sorry to intrude," said Ginny, who wanted more than ever to just get back to bed and leave them to their war tactics discussion. "I'll just--er--go to bed, then, shall I?"

Bill reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Ginny's nightshirt. "I can't let you go when you know what we're up to--what if..."

"What if _what_?"

Bill and Fleur exchanged a _look_. "Why don't you come down to the kitchen with me and we'll talk," he said.

"You're doing _what?_"

"Shh! Don't wake Mum up!"

"But--but you AND Dad?"

"Yes! Now do you see why I can't let you tell anyone? They might figure it out--I mean, if a curse breaker is working with a French witch who has ties to the French ministry and is the granddaughter of their best _Soldat de la Luminiere_... especially when that curse breaker's father is a Muggle fanatic and loyal to Dumbledore..."

"But I don't want you to Obliviate me," she said stubbornly. "I won't tell, you know I can keep a secret!"

"Ginny, I have to, I don't have any choice. Especially now that you know everything--and you're already a prime target--" he bit off his words. "I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that!"

"I'm a prime target?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Ginny, you had the power to convince Harry to return from his coma--and Voldemort induced that coma!"

Funny, Ginny thought, that more and more wizards were saying "Voldemort" nowadays. She thought it was definitely a good sign.

"That takes power from you and trust from Harry. Plus he saved your life, which is itself another powerful magical debt--although I suppose you repaid it with this," he mused. "Anyway, the point is that everyone knows Harry cares about you, and if there's anyone he'll want to kidnap, it's you."

It was as though she'd been Stupefied. "Kid-kidnap?" she croaked. Images of dark pipes and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom invaded her vision. She shook her head to clear it.

"Yes! Kidnap, and torture!"

She shuddered, remembering the Cruciatus Curse. Did he know about...? She asked.

"Yes, Dumbledore's already told me about that--it puts a wrench in the works, Harry being so distant, but that makes you even more at risk--Dumbledore thinks Voldemort will use Harry's apathy against him."

"How is Voldemort getting all this information?" she asked, and immediately answered it herself. "Malfoy."

"Yep."

She ground her teeth. "So _that's_ what he meant when he said I should watch out."

"He told you to watch out?"

"Yes--came up to me after Potions--the fifth years have it after us on Fridays, he was there early, I guess--and started saying all sorts of half-threatening things to me."

"What did he say?" Bill pulled out a quill and piece of parchment from the drawer by the sink.

"Umm--I can't really remember--but I think it was something about how everyone's talking about me, that our family can't afford it, and something about Percy."

"Percy?" Bill looked up questioningly. "That's odd..."

Ginny suddenly remembered it. "There's a letter I got from Percy a few weeks ago--I ran _Aparecium_ on it, since it sounded strange, and there was all this stuff he'd erased. He sounded so blind, Bill, so trusting in Fudge--I'm scared for him."

"Do you have it with you?" Bill asked urgently.

"No, it's at school..."

"Well, send it to me when you get back--maybe it'll fit our puzzle."

Ginny nodded.

"Back to business. Ginny, I'm _really_ sorry about this, but I _have_ to put a Memory Charm on you. A strong one, especially now that you know all about this."

"But Cruciatus can break Memory Charms!" Ginny was fishing about for reasons to keep her memories. She felt important now, knowing things.

"Only in certain ways..."

"They broke Bertha Jorkins'!"

"Damn," he said, smiling slightly. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"But what's the point, Bill, if I'll still spill, only later and with more pain?"

"The point, Ginny, is that under Veritaserum you can truthfully say that you don't know anything. We're going to have a civil war on our hands, along with Voldemort's terrorism," he said seriously, "and I don't want you to be a pawn." He stared at the teacup in his hands, now half-filled with cold tea, and drained it in one gulp. "Hideous," he croaked. He looked her in the eye. "Please, let me do this. It's Dumbledore's idea, if that gives you any consolation."

Ginny had never trusted Dumbledore the way everyone else had--for some reason the fact that he hadn't been more forceful about making Harry tell what was going on in her first year, the fact that he'd tossed off Percy's concerns as slow adjustment, meant that he didn't seem omniscient to her. Powerful, intelligent, resourceful, yes. Omniscient, no.

"It isn't," she said softly, and closed her eyes.

"Morning, Ginny!" said Bill cheerfully as she walked into the kitchen at one p.m. "Sleep well?" He grinned cheekily.

"Shut it," said Ginny. "You two were up until five in the morning, making all that racket, doing-"

"Doing what?" asked Fred.

"Ooh, Billy Boy, what were you doing?" asked George.

Bill thumped George hard on the arm. Fred hissed in pain. Ginny stared at him.

"New experiment," said George cryptically.

Bill drained his cup of milk.

"Out!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, emerging from the pantry. "I need to make dinner! The Grangers are arriving in just four hours! Unless, of course, you want to help..."

They left, Ginny clutching a piece of cold toast.

Christmas Eve dinner with the Grangers started out in the only way it could: Mr. Weasley cornered Mr. Granger about drilling teeth at five p.m., and had moved on to the subject of disposable diapers about an hour later.

"Ingenious," exclaimed Mr. Weasley. "Wizards simply banish the poop into an appropriate can--much cleaner."

Mr. Granger nodded, clearly relieved that at least he wasn't alone with this man.

"Tell me, how many did you go through each day when you were raising Hermione?"

"Oh, about ten. Sometimes more, when she was being fussy."

Hermione went scarlet. "Dad!" she wailed.

Ron guffawed.

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called.

Hermione made her escape.

Still chuckling, Ron followed her, with everyone else behind him.

The dining room table had been stretched and moved out into the living room to accomodate them all, but it was still cramped. Ginny found herself bumping elbows with Fred on her right and Harry on her left. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that Harry was right-handed, and she was left-handed.

"Sorry," she muttered after the fifth time she made him drop his fork into the mashed potatoes.

"It's not your fault," he said; it was the first response she'd gotten out of him all evening.

"It isn't yours, either."

"It's _all_ my fault," he muttered.

"What is?" she asked, spooning some more peas onto her plate. Around them, Mr. Weasley was asking Mrs. Granger how she did laundry, while Mrs. Weasley was laughing at some story Mr. Granger was telling them. Judging by Hermione's scarlet face and Ron's grin, Ginny figured it was an embarassing baby story. Fred and George were whispering to each other, and Bill was eating--just eating, every particle of him focusing on the poor forkful of pheasant he had just speared. For some reason, Ginny wasn't surprised that Bill would be so happy to see decent food.

"Everyone's going to war over me," he said very softly. He held up his fork and looked through the tines at her. "I can't do anything about it--Dumbledore's locked me into the school and everyone assumes I'm okay with it, that I'll sit back and let them all protect me."

"Mum, we need more cider!" called Fred suddenly, holding up some empty bottles.

"I'll get it," Ginny said. "Harry, come with me--the keg's heavy."

Harry followed her meekly out to the kitchen.

"Have you ever wondered _why_ everyone protects you? Have you?" she asked angrily as they went into the dark pantry. _"Lumos."_

"I'm famous Harry Potter," he spat.

"Yes, precisely. You're famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

"But it doesn' t mean anything! My _mother_ saved me, I didn't do anything! I'm just an ordinary wizard that everyone's out to kill because my mother was a powerful witch!"

"No, Harry, you're more than that. Here, take the other end." They hefted the keg and began carrying it out into the open kitchen. "You're a symbol of hope."

"Of what?"

"Ouch! That was my toe!" Ginny exclaimed. Harry had dropped the keg in surprise.

"Sorry! Are you okay? Gods, I mess everything up," he moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm fine." She actually rather thought he'd smashed a toenail, but this was more important. "Look, you're a symbol of hope to all of us--a symbol that Voldemort was killed once, that he can be killed again. Maybe not right now, but someday. You're a reminder that he's not all powerful, and that's really important to us. All of us."

Harry gazed at her over the keg of cider. "No one's ever told it to me that way," he said finally.

"Well, they should have."

"Actually, Dobby did once," he said, slightly bemused. "What was it? Oh, yes--" He put on a house-elf's squeaky voice. "'Harry Potter survived, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope...'"

"Who's Dobby?"

"The Malfoys' old house-elf-"

"How did you ever meet the _Malfoys' house-elf?_ And what do you mean, their _old one_?"

"Didn't I ever tell you about how he was trying to save me from the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No!"

As they refilled bottles of cider, Harry explained to her about Dobby coming to Privet Drive, stopping the barrier at King's Cross letting them enter, the Bludger that had broken his arm, and all the hints that Dobby had tried to drop- especially about the diary.

"You freed him?" Ginny finally asked, incredulous. They leaned against the counter, the bottles and keg of cider forgotten nearby.

"He works at Hogwarts now--gets paid. He's the driving force behind Hermione's little crusade."

"Spew?"

"'It's S-P-E-W!'" he exclaimed shrilly.

She giggled, then sobered. "We should get back to dinner," she reminded him, bending to gather some bottles.

"Wait."

She straightened up to ask, "What?" but his lips were pressed over hers before she could speak. It was a nice kiss, more tender than passionate, but it warmed her to her toes.

They broke apart. "What was that for?" she asked, unable to hold back a smile.

"For waking me up."

It wasn't until bedtime that she realized he didn't just mean the Pensieve.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Christmas**

Christmas Day dawned muggy and rainy. No snow this year, thought Ginny gloomily as she pulled on her slippers and went to the bathroom.

"Take a shower!" shouted the mirror at her as she brushed her teeth. She glared at it, then saw her reflection. Maybe it was right.

She showered--noticing Hermione three bottles of Dilys' Detangler-- and toweled off, pausing only to yell at Ron as he barged in on her.

Events of the last night filtered through her mind and she found herself humming happily while dressing. Percy was showing up, she reminded herself. Short skirt? No--he'd flip. But Harry would like it--and the house was warm enough. Mum must've started the fireplace early. Short skirt, with tights, and house slippers. Ginny smiled at her reflection. She felt very pretty.

The morning went calmly enough. After opening gifts, Ginny helped bake scones. Hermione and Ron disappeared for a while, "to tidy up the garage," Ron said, and returned rather flushed and disheveled.

_Well?_ Ginny asked Hermione with an arched eyebrow as she cut the pie crust dough.

_Later,_ Hermione mouthed, but she was grinning like Crookshanks, and Ron had a funny little smile on his face.

Ten to one they'd done some serious snogging on the old springy Muggle mattress Mr. Weasley had found in the village last August.

Harry and Bill were talking earnestly by the fireplace, Fleur was writing a postcard to her sister, and Fred and George were bending over some parchments on the table.

"What are you two up to?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she put Ginny's pie crust in the oven.

"Homework," said Fred.

Mrs. Weasley snorted disbelievingly and scooped up the parchment.

"The Super-Ethereal Effects of Common Forces," she read aloud, sounding disappointed. "Well, you'll need to clear it off soon, I'll need the table."

"Ooh, that sounds fascinating!" said Hermione. "Can I read it?"

"No," said George. At her hurt expression he added, "We're not done, and it's a little rusty."

"Why are you working on it together?" Ginny asked, curious.

"Special assignment from Dumbledore," Fred said.

There was a small diversion then, in the form of Percy's head appearing in the fireplace.

"Percy!" said Mrs. Weasley happily. She dusted floury hands off on her apron and bustled over. "You're coming by this afternoon?"

"Hello, Mother. Hi, Fred, George, Hermione, Ron, Ginny. Harry, Bill, how are you? I was hoping to stop by around three, Mother, if that would be okay." On closer inspection, Ginny thought Percy looked very tired.

"Oh, that's wonderful, I'll tell Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming.

"Right," Percy replied, pursing his lips. "I might run a little late--there's some business at the office I wanted to take care of first--but don't wait for me to start."

"You working on the holiday, Perce?" asked George.

"There's a lot to be done nowadays, George." Percy sounded just as pompous as always, thought Ginny. "I'd best be going."

"See you around three, dear."

Percy's head nodded and popped out of view.

Percy wasn't there when they started dinner. Ginny was only mildly surprised--it was perfectly typical of him to go into the office on a holiday, but it _was_ Christmas. He showed up about halfway through, when Ginny was picking at her salad and Fred and George were on their third helpings.

"Sorry I'm late," he said apologetically, taking a seat. "I just had a lot more work than I thought."

"What were you doing, Perce?" asked Fred.

"Just paperwork," he replied vaguely. "Some forms that need to be sent out before tomorrow."

"Don't you think it's a little much, dear, on Christmas?" asked Mrs. Weasley gently, ladling him some potatoes.

"It's fine, Mother," he said shortly. "Minister Fudge relies on me for a lot of important things now. Just because it's the holidays doesn't mean the wizarding world stops functioning. Besides, I get paid overtime."

Snubbed, Mrs. Weasley sat back.

"Hello, Percy," said Mr. Weasley guardedly.

"Hello, Father," Percy replied cooly. "Pass me the salt, please?"

The rest of the meal passed, stiff and silent. After a glance at her mother, Ginny decided that she had better stick around until the meal was over, even though she was long finished. The chatter came in brief spurts, and Mr. Weasley and Percy barely spoke, although Mrs. Weasley tried to encourage their conversation.

"So, Percy, tell Arthur about that strange call you got from Dedalus Diggle the other day..." or, "Tell Arthur about the cabinet you recently purchased," and Percy would dutifully tell the story in a bit of a monotone, Mr. Weasley would make a noncommital comment (or simply grunt acknowledgment), and they'd fall silent.

Just before pudding, Amos Diggory's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Oh, hello, Amos!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "Happy Christmas to you! How are you and your wife?"

"We're fine, Arthur, and Happy Christmas and all that, but I need you two to come back with me--Bill and Fleur as well."

"What is it, Mr. Diggory?" asked Harry.

"Emergency meeting, nothing to concern you." Mr. Diggory's tone was brusque, but not sharp.

Ginny saw Harry scowl.

"Can't we help?" asked George.

"Not this time, boys. We'll be back in an hour, don't worry." He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Ready to go?"

"I suppose--Hermione, make sure the leftovers are stored properly, and, Ron, you'll need to--"

"Don't worry, Mother, I'll keep watch." Percy, sounding completely in his element, received glares from all of them.

"Well, I suppose--Amos, this will only be an hour, right?"

"Right, Molly. We need to get going."

"Do you have your cloak, Bill?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Don't fuss, Molly."

"I am ready, Mrs. Weasley," said Fleur quickly.

They Disapparated with a _pop_.

The five remaining Weasleys, plus Harry and Hermione, cleared the table solemnly. Percy took on his familiar bossy role. He set Harry and Ginny to dish washing--without magic.

"No magic outside of school, Ginny, you know the rules," Percy insisted when Ginny took out her wand to charm the scrubbrush.

"But, Percy! It's unusual circumstances! I don't want to be here all night scrubbing--"

"No magic, Ginny! And you too, Harry!" He scooped up their wands. "I'm going to see what the twins are up to."

"Git," said Ginny. She looked at the pile of dishes with despair. "How'm I supposed to take care of all of these! Whenever I helped Mum, it was just to keep things going in and out of the sink without breaking! You know cleaning charms..."

"Don't worry," said Harry. "I've done lots of Muggle cleaning for the Dursleys, it's not that bad." He turned on the faucet and began squeezing soap onto several sponges. "First, you make sure the pots aren't too grimy..."

The dishes took nearly an hour, and from the sound of things (absolute silence), Percy had found equaling boring tasks for everyone else to do.

"Want some tea?" Ginny asked as they finally stacked up the last clean plates.

"And have to wash more dishes? No, thanks!" said Harry.

Ginny laughed.

"Let's get upstairs before Percy finds more work for us," she suggested. "Knowing him, he'll probably want us to write essays or something... oh, crap!"

"What is it?"

"I forgot about the essay Snape assigned us to do over the holidays--slow acting venoms and antitodes..."

"I have my books," offered Harry.

"You have that horrid thick one of antidotes?"

"Yep."

"Good." _Guess I will be writing an essay after all,_ Ginny thought with a chuckle.

Ginny's last essay, which had been her lowest mark ever, had not been a good experience.

_"Professor Snape, can I talk with you?"_

_"You already are, Miss Weasley." Snape sounded bored, as though she were perhaps only slightly less interesting than watching grass grow._

_She gathered herself. _He's only a person,_ she told herself firmly. _Just talk, the worst he can do is... well, nevermind.

_"I wanted to talk with you about my grade on this last essay."_

_"You received the highest mark in the class, if I recall, Miss Weasley."_

_She gulped. That meant everyone else must have failed._

_"Yes, but I was looking through your comments and didn't understand the resulting mark."_

_"How so?"__ He still sounded bored, his quill marking red slashes on the first-year assignments._

_"Not once did you write that I was wrong in my facts, or that I'd missed an important point."_

_"Miss Weasley, you are the top student in your year. I presume you can figure out from my comments what was wrong, and not bother me with silly questions."_

_"Yes, sir, I understand that you were criticizing my organization, but I still don't see how that can affect my grade so much, considering that otherwise my essay was supposedly perfect. If it hadn't been, you would have marked it so."_

_He finally paused, and looked up at her._

_"Miss Weasley, it isn't always enough to have the facts straight. You need to present them in an orderly fashion, so that even the dullest reader can understand them." He smiled nastily. "Perhaps have one of your roommates read your essays first--they'd be a good audience. Now, if you don't mind, I have some grading to finish." He bent back down to write a large zero on a Hufflepuff's assignment, but she didn't leave._

_"Why are you still here?"_

_"I don't understand what I'd done wrong, sir."_

_"Do I look like a handbook of structure?" he said with a sneer._

_"No, sir."_

_"But..."_

_"But I assumed you'd know more than I do about writing well-structured essays."_

_"Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Weasley."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_He paused for a minute, then took a thin book from the shelf behind him and tossed it to her. She caught it and looked at the title. How to Write a Thesis. The glossy cover proclaimed it a Muggle printing._

_"Thank you, sir. When do you need it back?"_

_"Keep it, I have more," Snape said offhandedly. Ginny only had a moment to register that Snape was being generous before he said, "And five points from Gryffindor for disturbing me while I was working. Go, before I make it ten, girl."_

_"Yes, sir."__ Ginny gulped and left as quickly as she could._

Ginny glanced up from the outline she was working on at her clock, a smaller version of the one downstairs. It only had four hands--two for her parents, and two she could charm to read for any particular person. One hand read "Harry" and was at "Visiting the Burrow." One was still blank. Her parents' hands held at "Running late." She sighed.

"What is it?" Harry asked. He was sitting on her bed, engrossed in her Muggle Studies book, which had left him chuckling quietly in some places.

"Mum and Dad are running late," she replied. "They've been gone for almost three hours."

"You're right." There was a short pause.

"Hope they're okay."

"Mmm." Another pause.

"Want some tea?"

"I guess."

The kitchen was darkened when they entered. She reached for her wand to light the candles, but it wasn't there. "Oh, shoot, Percy's still got my wand."

"He's got mine, too." Harry sounded a little annoyed.

"And a good thing, too," said an all-too familiar voice. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ it yelled, and both Ginny and Harry fell to the floor like stone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author Notes Warning:** This chapter contains acts of violence. If you're squeamish, do not read on! Skip to the next chapter; you can pick up what happens by context.

**Chapter Eleven: In Which Horrible Things Happen**

Ginny wanted to scream, to rant at Malfoy, to beg Harry to do something, _anything_, but all she could do was stare unblinkingly ahead. Which, currently, was the ceiling of Malfoy Manor.

At least that's where she presumed she was, considering that it had been Draco Malfoy's voice that had cursed them, Malfoy's face she'd seen dragging her to the fireplace to Floo back, and that the decor she had glimpsed had been hideously overdone.

"Father will be so pleased with me," Malfoy said, dumping them both on the floor. "Harry Potter _and_ a little Weasley girl to play with!"

Ginny didn't want to think of what kind of "playing" Malfoy had in mind. It probably involved lots of hexes and metal spikes.

"Good, it worked." The voice of Lucius Malfoy made her blood freeze. It was he, after all, who had planted the diary in her cauldron. She could hear his feet clicking on the polished floor as he approached to survey them. "I was worried that fool Percy wouldn't leave the Burrow when he was called--but Fudge was quite convincing. I assume you have their wands?"

"Yes, Father. They were on the table."

"Good, good. Glad to see the suggestion worked. Stay here, Draco. I will inform the others."

Suggestion? What was Malfoy talking about? And who were the others? Ginny's mind was whirling.

Beside her, she heard a scratching noise. She wished she could turn her head, because it sounded distinctly like fingernails on wood floor. Maybe Harry's Petrificus was wearing off.

Lucius Malfoy was back, with company. "Macnair, can you carry them both?" There was a grunt of acknowledgment. "Good. Take them down to the dungeon in the southwest corner."

Ginny snorted inwardly. She wasn't surprised that Malfoy Manor had more than one dungeon. The Burrow had, or rather had had, one; when she was five, she'd stumbled into a suspicious chamber off their cellar with chains and some strange wooden devices. Mr. Weasley had happily pronounced it an old dungeon. Now it held potatoes.

And now she was being dragged into her first ever functioning dungeon. _Great,_ she thought sarcastically. _This is really something to write home about._

Beside her, she could hear Harry breathing heavily. _I wonder if he's scared,Ginny_ thought. Her inner eleven-year-old desperately didn't want to be seen as a coward by the famous Harry Potter.

Wait a minute. _Breathing?_ That meant that his spell _was_ wearing off.

Macnair dropped her on the stone floor and left without a comment.

"Ginny!" Harry was completely free now and ran over to her. "Are you okay? Can you move?"

She tried to say something, but her lips were still frozen.

"Hmm. Guess not." He looked around. "There's a pile of straw over there--it'll be more comfortable than the stone floor. Can I move you? ...Right, you can't talk. Well, I'll assume it's okay."

Okay for him to carry her? Who did he think he was dealing with? Of course he could carry her wherever he wanted. She entertained a brief, delicious fantasy of Harry Potter's hands on her body.

Harry placed her gently on the straw, his hands, unfortunately, firmly not wandering. "You're pretty light," he mused.

Why wasn't her Petrificus wearing off? They were only supposed to last a few minutes, just long enough for someone to get away. She'd been under for... at least fifteen minutes now.

Harry sat next to her on the straw, gently stroking her forehead. "I hope you're okay. If Malfoy's done something permanent to you, I'll--"

"You'll what, Potter?" It was Draco Malfoy, standing outside the bars of their cell. "What would you do if I did something to your precious little Weasley brat?" He sneered.

"I'd kill you," replied Harry angrily, springing up. He stalked over to glare at Malfoy through the bars.

"Ooh, ooh, I'm so scared! Somebody help me! Harry Potter wants to kill me!" Malfoy wailed in a high-pitched voice. He smirked. "And you haven't got your wand, poor thing."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry through clenched teeth.

Malfoy opened the door, his wand pointed straight at Harry. "Make one move, Potter, and you'll wish you'd never been born," he said seriously. "I've been learning real duelling over the summer--nothing like that idiot Lockhart's little club--and my father's taught me some powerful curses." At Harry's look of apprehension, he added, "Not just Crucio and Imperius, but some really nasty ones, too. Pity, that little Ginny here can't move," Malfoy continued happily. "I'd so like to test out one of the new variants of Cruciatus on her."

Ginny quailed inwardly. Where was her Gryffindor courage now? she thought bitterly.

"Do you want to know what they do, Potter? Not only does every nerve feel like it's on fire, but with just a few added words you can make the bones feel like they're breaking, the teeth fall out, or the eyes feel like they're being poked out with a blunt spoon." He shivered, almost like a happy puppy. "But," Draco mused, "if I cast another spell on her, it'll break the Petrificus--and I can't have that. It would ruin my plans."

"You bastard!"

"Language, Potter, language, there's a lady around. Well, I suppose she's just a Weasley, so she doesn't count. My father's always told me that the only reason the Weasleys have so many children is because their women are so easy. You'd know, wouldn't you?"

"Take that back, Malfoy." Ginny could see Harry's fists clenching.

"I didn't say anything untrue, did I? Everyone knows that you and Ginny are sleeping together--or at least that's what I've heard from the Ravenclaws..."

"The Ravenclaws? Cho?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

Malfoy smirked triumphantly. "She's a wonderful gossip, did you know? Just let any little thing slip, and she'll pick up on it. Sharp, like all good Ravenclaws."

Harry said nothing. Ginny saw a thin trickle of blood on his fingers--he'd broken the skin on his palms with his fingernails.

"Now, to business." Malfoy muttered something, and thin, snakelike cords shot out from his wand at Harry. "Don't want you interfering."

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" spat Harry, although Ginny could hear a note of panic in his voice.

_"Silencio!_ Just shut up, Harry. It's playtime."

Ginny heard the sound of rustling fabric and fought her panic. _No, this isn't happening, this is not happening..._ But it was. All too soon, Malfoy was on top of her, hands tearing at her pretty skirt and sweater, and muttering a few well-chosen spells to soften certain of her body parts.

Just like Malfoy to take the easy way and leave her in the Body Bind.

Fortunately, he didn't take long. But it hurt, even though she was still under the spell. And she wished more than anything that Harry hadn't had to witness it. Malfoy finished, tugged his robes back down over himself, and left, swaggering. As he closed the door to their cell, over his shoulder he released both their binds.

Harry immediately ran over to her. "Oh, god, Ginny, are you okay?" he asked

But Ginny couldn't speak. She sat up, holding her arms around her, rocking back and forth. Really, she told herself, it was just a nightmare. You'll wake up, in your room at the Burrow, with Hermione on the cot beside you...And Mum will be nagging you to unroll your socks before putting them in the laundry pile...

Arms stretched to hold her, but she jerked back reflexively, before remembering that it was just Harry. "Sorry," she managed to say. Her voice was croaky.

Harry retreated a few inches, crouching on the floor. "That's okay... but are you all right? Can I do anything?"

She just shook her head.

"Oh, god, you're bleeding!" Blood was seeping into the straw and was pooling stickily on her legs.

"Just a little, don't worry. It's normal the first time." _The first time..._

"It's going to be okay, Ginny... here, you need to put something on..." He pulled off his sweater. "Wear this."

"Won't you be cold?" The words came automatically, part of her still functioning.

"Not as cold as you'll be."

His sweater fell to her knees, which was a good thing. She didn't want to be showing too much skin for a while. She felt dirty. "Violated" wasn't the right word. _Contaminated._ Not really _tainted_, but contaminated. Like she'd been stuffed with some sort of poisonous fungus--and considering that it was Malfoy, that wasn't a bad comparison.

Harry had retreated courteously to the other side of the dungeon while she cleaned up and dressed.

"Don't be so far away," she said quietly.

"But--but I thought you didn't want me to touch you- "

"I didn't--but I want you close to me..."

He came over and sat on the straw next to her, a few courteous inches between them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked after a moment.

Ginny stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak--she knew that if she did, she'd probably start crying.

"Talking about it helps. You know what happened the night of the Third Task, right?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, after that, when I came back, Dumbledore made me tell him everything. And it was hard, but it felt good to get it out."

Ginny drew a long breath. "So I guess I should tell you how I feel, then?"

"If you'd like. I'll listen."

"Not yet, Harry," she whispered.

A few hours later, they were joined in their cell by three more Weasleys plus Hermione. Ron was sporting a black eye, and a bruised George supported Fred, who seemed to have a broken ankle. Hermione looked unhurt, but pale. Ron had his arm around her.

"Oh, lord, what happened?" asked Ginny, seeing their injuries.

Instantly a babble broke out. Ginny caught words like "Death Eaters," "Percy, that idiot," and "surprise attack" before Harry cut in.

"Stop, stop," he said, waving his arms. "One of you at a time! From the beginning--what happened after your parents left? And where's Percy?"

The four of them looked at each other, then Fred spoke.

"First, we don't know where Percy is. He got an owl from the Ministry and Apparated out. Right when he left, a bunch of Death Eaters showed up and started attacking. Percy had managed to get my wand and George's--he said we had to clean without magic, and that he didn't want us hexing him behind his back"--he snorted disdainfully--"but Ron and Hermione still had theirs. They were good, too," he added.

Ron couldn't help but grin.

"Crabbe and Goyle were there, too, Harry," he said. "I got them both with Jelly-Legs, you should've seen how they wobbled..."

Harry grinned too. Then he sobered.

"But are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," said George. "Hermione got hit with Crucio." He looked over at Hermione, who was leaning on Ron for support, her face buried in his shoulder. "But she says she'll be okay. And you two?"

"Malfoy was in the kitchen when we came downstairs for tea," said Harry grimly.

"You two were upstairs together?" asked George with a faint smirk.

"We were doing homework!" protested Harry.

"Right, right," said Fred, grinning widely. "That's what I'll tell Mum and Dad..."

"Really, we were doing homework," said Ginny quietly.

Fred sobered at the look on his sister's face. "All right," he said. "But what happened afterwards? We were stuck in some room at Goyle's house for hours."

"Malfoy brought us here and--" Harry looked at Ginny. She gave in imperceptible shake of her head. She didn't want her brothers knowing what had happened. Not yet. "--put us in this dungeon. We've been here the entire time."

Fred nodded. There was silence for a moment. Then Harry spoke. "You said Percy got an owl from the Ministry?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "He read it, said he needed to go take care of something immediately, and Apparated out."

"Was it from Fudge?"

"I dunno," said George. "Could have been. The bit of writing I saw looked like Fudge's."

"Oh, how would you know what Fudge's writing looks like?" asked Ron, exasperated.

George raised his eyebrows. "We'd know," he said cryptically.

Fred nodded. "Yup, we'd know. We just didn't get a good enough look at it."

"C'mon, you two, tell us what's up," said Ron imploringly.

"Can't. Classified."

"By whom?" asked Hermione. Some color was returning to her face.

"Can't tell. Classified."

"Oh, come on," pleaded Ginny, eager for the distraction. "We're family."

"If I told you, I'd have to Obliviate you."

Fred's words clicked something in Ginny's head. That was familiar--being Obliviated over classified information. Why did that ring a bell? Why? She shook her head to clear it, but had an idea.

"Does it have to do with that paper you were writing for Dumbledore?" she asked slyly.

"It might," said George slowly.

"And what about that 'new experiment'? The one that made you feel the other twin's pain?"

Fred grinned. "She's starting to figure it out," he said to George.

"We'll have to do something about it then," said Fred in mock seriousness.

"She might tell--" They launched themselves at her, hands ready to tickle.

It was too much contact. She yelled and pushed them away.

"Off! Get off me!" she screamed, panicked. "No! Stop it!"

They stopped.

"Hey, Gin, what's wrong?" said Fred, holding out his hand to pull her off the floor. She ignored it and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"You've never sounded so upset about us tickling you before," said George. "Are you okay?"

"And why are you wearing Harry's sweater?" asked Fred. "Did something happen?"

Suddenly all the weight of the previous few hours came tumbling down on her, and she started shaking, hiccuping, and sobbing uncontrollably.

"What is it?" "What happened?" "Are you okay?" came the voices of her three protective brothers. "Harry? What happened!"

She looked at Harry for support. "I can't tell them," she said hoarsely. She was just too embarrassed. She knew it was ridiculous--of course it wasn't her fault--but she just couldn't.

"Tell us what?" asked Ron.

"Ginny was--Malfoy, he--he put Petrificus on us when he kidnapped us, and Ginny's held for a long time, so he--he took advantage of it to--to -"

"He didn't," breathed Fred.

"He did!" exclaimed George, looking at Ginny, who was sitting on the floor, curled into a ball.

"Oh, Ginny," said Hermione, gathering her into her arms. Ginny shook with silent sobs.

"She wouldn't let me touch her afterwards," Harry said quietly to the Weasleys as Hermione comforted the younger girl. "She just--wanted to be alone."

"I'm going to kill him, I swear it," said Ron.

"Not until I do," Harry said seriously.

"Why does everything happen to Ginny?" asked Fred angrily. "First the Chamber of Secrets, and now this..."

"Because," came a cold voice, "she's a powerful little witch with a connection to Harry Potter."

Lord Voldemort was standing right outside their cell.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: The Goal is Revealed**

"Come with me, Miss Weasley," said Voldemort.

Ginny's legs started to follow before she could stop them.

"She's not going anywhere!" shouted Ron. He ran forward and grabbed Ginny's arm to stop her.

_"Crucio!"_ Voldemort shouted.

Ron fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

"I have need of Miss Weasley's assistance in a certain matter," said Voldemort over Ron's cries. "If she will not come willingly, I have other means at my disposal..." He let the threat hang.

"I'll come," said Ginny. She was aiming for quiet bravery, but doubted that she'd pulled it off.

"Ginny--" said Harry.

"Don't worry."

"But--" said Fred.

"You can't--" said George.

"You don't know what he--" started Harry.

She waved them silent. "Like he said, he has other means. You stay here and look after Ron."

Voldemort had ended the curse with Ginny's acceptance, and Ron was now shaking on the ground.

"I'll see you when I get back," Ginny said confidently.

Voldemort ushered her out of the cell. "You are smarter than your associates," he commented.

She stayed silent. She remembered how persuasive Tom had been, and this was the same person, even if he didn't look it.

"They believe that fighting bravely and dying will always result in the best outcome. Foolish Gryffindors," he said, his voice tinged with a sigh of sadness. They walked up a narrow flight of stone steps and emerged in a comfortable, warm drawing room.

"First, let us find you a change of clothes," said Voldemort. "Elf!" he commanded, and a small, scared house-elf wearing a battered pillowcase came scrambling up.

"Yes, M-m-master?" it stammered.

"Bring Miss Weasley some clothes from Narcissa's pile of cast-offs."

The elf nodded and scampered away as quickly as it could. It returned almost immediately with an overlarge skirt and a rather nice cloak. She pulled them on and sat down at the chair Voldemort was holding out for her.

"Would you like something to eat, Miss Weasley--may I call you Ginevra? Ginny?"

"Ginny's fine." It didn't matter what Voldemort called her.

"Tea, Ginny?"

She nodded again. She was starving, and tired--it must be somewhere in the early hours of the morning, she realized. And if she wound up having to do anything more than just sit and feel miserable, she'd need her strength. She figured that if he wanted to kill her, he certainly had easier ways than poisoning the tea.

He clapped his hands, and a sumptuous service appeared in front of them, with steaming mugs of hot tea, buttery scones, dainty cookies and cakes, and even--Ginny blinked--chicken-apple sausages.

She took a bit of everything and dug in.

Voldemort watched her with amusement.

"Now, Ginny, while you recover your strength, I will explain to you your role in our endeavor. You have a unique bond with our friend Mr. Potter. Not only did he save your life in the Chamber of Secrets--you must tell me your experience, one of these days--but you saved his life. You managed to convince him of your reality when he was caught in my Coma Spell. That takes innate magical power, which you possess in abundance, as well as his trust. He may not love you the way you love him, but he feels strongly for you."

Ginny swallowed a piece of sausage. "And what does that have to do with your plans?" she asked.

"A very good question, Ginny. Do you know why your home is called The Burrow?"

A bit suprised, Ginny started, "Well, it originally was completely underground. 'Strong as a badger's lair,' Granpaw would say."

"That is the story I have heard as well. Tell me, what is the symbol of Hufflepuff House?"

"A badger...I know my father was in Hufflepuff, as was his dad."

"The Weasleys have historically been Hufflepuffs, until your generation, Ginny. Your brother Bill was the first Weasley to be admitted to House Gryffindor. Your mother was in Gryffindor, yes," he added as Ginny began to protest, "but she was not a Weasley at the time."

Ginny swallowed some tea. "So what are you saying, then?"

"Your ancestry can be traced back to Hufflepuff, Ginny. You're the Heir of Hufflepuff, as I was the Heir of Slytherin. And, as everyone knows or has guessed, Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor. Yes, I heard about him pulling the sword out of the hat--quite a trick. And this means, Ginny, that we lack only the Heir of Ravenclaw to make a complete set. Do you know how much power all four Heirs would have together, Ginny?"

She shook her head.

"Beyond belief, Ginny." Voldemort gestured dramatically. "They'd have the power to remove the ghosts at Hogwarts--not just Banish, but to lay them to rest. They could rearrange the staircase patterns, confine all portraits to their frames. They could completely change Hogwarts' character."

"You want to take over the school."

"Not as such, Ginny, not as such. I want to improve it, to clear Slytherin House's name, which has for so long been sullied."

_By you and your kind,_ Ginny thought angrily, but didn't voice it. Instead she said, "Wouldn't improving it mean getting rid of all the Muggle-borns?"

"Not necessarily--look at Miss Granger. Quite a powerful, clever witch. If she'd been pureblood, she might have been sorted into Ravenclaw or even Slytherin. Not all Muggle-borns are a bad influence, and Hogwarts is the safest place for them, after all. Left in the Muggle world without proper training... Who knows? They wind up in crazy houses and hospitals, or simply commit suicide in their adolescence to escape the pressures of 'being normal.'" He sighed dramatically.

"Now, as to your part. What I want you to do, Ginny, is simply find the Heir of Ravenclaw. Do not expect that person to be in Ravenclaw House--after all, you are not in Hufflepuff, are you? Look through the thick geneology tomes I know are on the third shelf from the back in the library."

"And what if I refuse?" asked Ginny, trying to simply sound curious.

"Well, then I shall tell my good friend Lucius that his son Draco shall have to do the work, and we know how much dear Draco wishes to stay out of the library--such an active boy, excellent at duelling..." he said, gazing off into the distance. "Of course, if I assign this work to Draco, he will be most unhappy with you..."

Ginny nodded. How bad would it be for her to simply find this person? She wasn't being told to hurt anyone, but she could see that Voldemort had big plans, and she felt a twinge--more of a slam--of guilt at even being slightly involved. If she were Harry, she'd probably refuse and be killed.

"I'll find them." _Coward._

"Good. Send an owl to Lucius when you have done so; he will know how to contact me. And"--he bored holes through her eyes with his gaze--"I trust you will be discreet, Ginevra Weasley. I shall be most displeased with you if certain parties learn of your task. To assure this--" He pulled out his wand.

She flinched.

A spate of Latin that she didn't catch enveloped the both of them in deep purple light. "The Secret-Binding prevents you from telling anyone about your research. It's like an Obliviate in a way. Quite handy. I trust you will not need to be bound by it, though?"

Ginny nodded, swallowing.

Ginny was returned to the cell by a silent Death Eater wearing a hood, and found that Fred and George were missing.

"Where'd they go?" she asked.

"Death Eaters took them away, saying they had a few questions for them..." said Hermione worriedly.

"But Fred and George don't know anything, do they?"

"I think they're working for Dumbledore," said Harry seriously. "I think they know more than they let on."

"How do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "I think it's to do with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, though, since they're really good at doing magic in strange ways... What did _he_ want with you, anyway? You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. We had tea--seriously, Ron!" she said, since Ron looked like he either wanted to laugh hysterically or have a fit of apoplexy. "I can't talk about what we said, though."

"Why not?"

"Do you honestly think Voldemort can't hear what's going on in this cell, Ron?" asked Hermione testily. Ginny silently thanked her for thinking up that possibility.

"Oh, right."

They slept uneasily on the floor, a few blankets having been tossed at them sometime later.

Fred and George weren't back when they awoke, which, according to Harry's new wristwatch, a Christmas gift from Ron, was around noon.

"I hope they're okay," said Ron nervously.

"Me, too," echoed Hermione.

"They're at The Burrow," said Lucius Malfoy, who was standing outside their cell. "I must return you all to that--ah--_dwelling_."

When they got back to The Burrow, Mrs. Weasley fussed over all of them.

"Oh, my babies, my poor babies!" she cried, trying to hug all of them at once--even Harry and Hermione. She bustled around making tea and managed to resuscitate some old bread.

"What happened?" asked Arthur urgently. "Amos' meeting was dragged out until almost midnight, and then someone--I can't remember who--insisted that we stay the night. We assumed that you would be all right... and where's Percy?"

It took half an hour for the story to be told--since each person had their own version of events. Ginny left out the part about Malfoy, causing more than a few raised eyebrows. Not in front of her dad. She'd tell Mum. Later.

It turned out that Fred and George had been put under Veritaserum and asked about their connection with Dumbledore, which they had managed not to tell. "Snape's been working with us," is all they said, when Ron asked how they'd gone against Veritaserum.

"Ooh, has he been making you immune to it?" asked Hermione, and earned a grin from George.

"Not telling," he said, but he winked.

Ginny told them that she'd been asked to do something for Voldemort, but she couldn't talk about it--"It's just library research, honestly," she said.

"Ginny, this house is safe for you to speak in," said Mr. Weasley.

Ginny shook her head.

"Well, I'll let Dumbledore know that you had a conversation with Voldemort, then. Maybe he'll get you to talk." Her father shot her one last worried look, then went on. "Anyway, we have a problem with Percy, now, if he's following Fudge blindly. I don't want any of you to tell him anything important when you owl him, but don't let him get suspicious!"

Returning to Hogwarts, a school full of happy, active children, was too much for Ginny. She still wasn't over what Malfoy had done; she didn't think she'd ever be over it. Her mother had comforted her, told her not to worry about it, it wasn't her fault, and suggested she keep herself busy for a while.

So she stayed busy in the library, looking up the different families. She managed to convince McGonagall to give her a list of every student in the school, saying it was for a personal research project, which it was, really, and McGonagall could never refuse anything to a top student. So that, plus her homework, and the fact that Harry was happily back on the Quidditch team, kept her mind off other things.

Like Cho.

Cho Chang, who had been lurking around alone ever since term began. Cho, who was suddenly in the library whenever Ginny was. Cho, who had been apparently, according to Ron, been lingering around Gryffindor fifth-year classes, and who had stopped talking to Hermione in Arithmancy.

And Malfoy.

Malfoy leered at her whenever he saw her, making rude motions with his pelvis when teachers weren't watching. He walked down the corridor with his arm around Pansy Parkinson--ten to one they were shagging--and rumor had it they'd been caught doing something on Snape's office desk, and the stain was still there. Rumor also had it that Malfoy had had every fifth-year in Slytherin and was working on the Ravenclaws.

Ginny couldn't stand him.

Her roommates were wonderful. They saw that she needed space and gave it to her without question. They took her sharpness in turn, knowing she'd apologize later.

Just a few weeks into term, Harry came into the library. Girls giggled as he approached her, and Cho glared in their general direction.

"Hi, Ginny," he said softly. "Can I talk?"

"Sure," she said, gathering up her books. "Just let me give these to Madam Pince, they're library use only."

She took the books over to the strict librarian, requested they be held for her overnight, rolled her parchment, tied it neatly, and followed him out of the library.

"What is it?" she asked, when they'd reached the common room. It was very noisy, it being the night before a Quidditch match (Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the most competitive match of the whole tournament), and Fred and George had nicked some food from the kitchens and some butterbeer from Hogsmeade. In short, everyone was partying and no-one was paying attention to anyone else. They found some seats in a far corner.

Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey, Harry! Want some food?" Fred had spotted them and came their way with a plate of sandwiches and some bottles of butterbeer. "Hi, Ginny, haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh, I've just been busy with schoolwork," she said. But she took some food and a drink, and they managed to get Fred off them without too much trouble.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Ginny asked, sipping her butterbeer.

"I wanted to ask you how you were holding up. I haven't seen much of you, and I've--well, I worry about you," he said quietly, not looking at her.

"That's sweet, Harry," she said, "but I'm fine."

He snorted softly. "No you're not."

"What?" This was making her angry. "I've been busy with schoolwork lately, I haven't even _thought_ about it."

"That's what worries me. You haven't been to anyone to talk about it, have you."

"Well, I talked to Mum, and she told me to keep myself busy--"

"But you've just been holing it up inside you."

She knew he was right, but she really didn't want to talk about it. "Harry, everyone is here right now, it's not a good time--"

"It never will be, Ginny."

She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what you think about, whether you feel like you can go on with your life after all this--I want to make sure you're happy."

"Happy?" she asked incredulously. "You think I can be _happy_ after what Malfoy--that scum--did?"

"Yes, I think you can. No, really, Ginny!" he exclaimed as she shook her head and got up to leave. "I know you're upset right now, I know that everything feels wrong--but let me help you--"

"The only way you can help me, Harry Potter, is by leaving me alone."

But he grabbed the sleeve of her robe and held her there. She struggled briefly, but he wouldn't let go.

"Talk," he said gently. "Sit down, and talk to me. I'm not going to leave you alone until I know that you're okay."

She stood silently for a moment, then sat down and looked away from him, gathering her thoughts.

"You know, what really bothers me is that it had to be _Malfoy_," she said abruptly.

Harry didn't say anything. Ginny supposed there wasn't anything to be said to that, and continued. "It doesn't really bother me that I'm not a virgin anymore, but that it was Malfoy..." She took a deep breath. Should she say it? "...and not you."

"Me?" Harry said squeakily. He looked around to make sure no one was watching them--the entire common room was preoccupied with George giving Trevor polka-dots.

"You, Harry Potter." Ginny felt tears building. "After we started--you know, getting physical--I would dream about our first time together, little fantasies about the Quidditch pitch, or you as Head Boy with your own room..." Ginny almost couldn't believe she was finally saying this to Harry..

Harry was staring at her. "You really wanted to--to--do _that_ with _me_?" he asked incredulously.

"Why are you so surprised? Half the girls in school, and probably some of the guys, want to. You're--well, you're famous Harry Potter and all that." She lowered her voice. "And you're a really nice guy."

"Oh," he said, swallowing. "But you--_you_ wanted--wanted _me_--like--like _that_?"

"Yes!" Ginny wanted to scream. Guys were so dense. There was nothing for it. "I love you, Harry."

"Oh."

That wasn't exactly the answer she'd wanted to hear. Her heart sank.

"Ginny--I know what you want me to say, but--but I don't know if it would be true--I feel really protective of you, you know that--and you're--well, you are really pretty, and really nice, and smart, and all that--but I don't want to say that until I know it, since it would hurt you if it weren't true."

"Oh." She paused. "What about Cho?"

Harry thought for a minute. "If what Malfoy said is true--that she's spreading rumors around the school, then I don't think I could even be friends with her. But I don't know that."

Ginny didn't find it at all hard to believe, especially considering Cho's recent behavior. "Do you know what she said about me, in the Great Hall, when everyone heard that I was going in to try and wake you up?"

"No..."

"She said that the only reason it was me was because you and I were sleeping together, and that you were only sleeping with me because I was easy."

"She didn't!"

"Yes, she did."

"And she was always so nice to me..."

"Well, she wasn't nice to me. She can be nice, Harry, but she's really quick to judge."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," said Ginny. "Ask Hermione how Cho's been acting in Arithmancy."

"Why is Hermione in Cho's Arithmancy class? They're in different years."

"Hermione skipped a year of it--she went from third year Arithmancy to fifth year," Ginny explained patiently. "Didn't you know?"

"No. Figures, I guess. So, what has Cho been doing?"

"She stopped talking to Hermione, and they used to be study partners, you know. Cho's been following me to the library, and I even heard her asking Madam Pince what books I'd been looking at! And haven't you noticed her lingering outside your classes?"

"Actually, I have been seeing more of her than usual, but I thought it was just a fluke."

"No, I think she's tailing us."

"But why?"

"Search me. But I'll bet she's not up to any good."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen: Some Quidditch, an Accident, and the Plot Positively Congeals**

There was a Quidditch match Saturday. Ginny wasn't so sure she wanted to go--she could get a lot of work done, with the castle empty. And it was a little strange to watch Quidditch once she'd played on the team.

But Ginny decided to go to the match after all. Harry was playing, and she, like all other Gryffindors, wanted to see Slytherin crushed. Which, of course, they would do. Gryffindor remained undefeated as of yet. It was nice to get back into the spirit of Quidditch rivalry. Ginny donned her Gryffindor scarf and followed her friends, who were happy to see her out of the library for once, up to the stands.

People all around her were chatting excitedly. Ginny listened with half an ear until she realized they were talking about Harry.

"I heard he's got some sort of bone to pick with Malfoy," said Seamus.

"Ooh," squealed Lavender, who was hanging off of Seamus. Seamus didn't seem to mind.

"Everyone knows he doesn't like Malfoy," said Hermione dismissively.

"But this is special," insisted Dean.

"Yeah, I heard it has to do with whatever happened over Christmas," squeaked a tiny first-year.

"Ooh," squealed Lavender again. "What did you hear?"

"Er--I heard that Harry stayed with the Weasleys for Christmas and that something happened with You-Know-Who, and Malfoy was involved, but I haven't heard anything more..."

Lavender and Parvati sighed in chorus.

"Trelawney's been predicting disaster for ages," said Parvati knowingly. "I'm not surprised that things happen to him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trelawney knows only what everyone else knows--that Harry is famous and Voldemort"--everyone flinched--"is after him."

Parvati started to argue, but the whistle blew right then and the players were off.

Ginny saw the Snitch only for a moment before it whisked out of sight. Harry and Malfoy took their standard places above the rest of the game, glaring at each other, while Lee commentated.

"And it's Gryffindor with the Quaffle! Chaser Spinnet passes to Chaser Bell, who's flying up the field there--watch out for that Bludger, Katie!--nice save by Fred, or George, can't tell which, and Chaser Bell scores!"

Everyone cheered, except for the Slytherins.

"Slytherin in possession, Flint junior with the Quaffle. Nice shot, George! Flint drops the Quaffle, and Johnson of Gryffindor picks it up. Some nice Bludger work by the Weasley brothers--Malfoy almost fell off his broom there. Good job! Sorry, Professor McGonagall. Johnson scores! Twenty to zero, Gryffindor in the lead."

Ginny watched Harry and Malfoy, heart thudding. For one, it was exciting to see "her" wizard playing Quidditch. For another, she really wanted Harry to beat Malfoy. And for another, she was anxious being around the snot-nosed Slytherin brat. But he was fifty feet away, and she was surrounded by all her friends.

Ginny saw the Snitch again, but neither of the Seekers had spotted it yet. Maybe they couldn't see it--it was hovering low to the ground, underneath the trio of Slytherin Chasers now making their way towards the goalposts, where Ron hovered, apprehensive. A Slytherin Beater knocked a Bludger at Ron, and he had to roll over mid-air to keep his head on his shoulders. Just then, the Chasers reached the goalpost, and they scored.

"Ten points to Slytherin," said Lee Jordan unenthusiastically. "They had to nearly kill our Keeper to get past him--Sorry, Professor!--but they've scored their first goal, it's now fifty to ten--was that the Snitch?"

Harry and Malfoy had finally spotted the elusive golden ball and were now speeding towards the ground. Ginny, in the front row of the stands, stood up to get a better view. The Snitch changed direction to head towards the Gryffindor stands, and the two Seekers came pelting up the field towards it. All other play had stopped to watch the chase. The Snitch stopped for a moment right in front of Ginny's face, and she had to sit on her hands not to grab it then and there. The two Seekers _whooshed_ towards them, and before Ginny could duck, Malfoy had grabbed her and knocked her over the railing.

_This is going to hurt, isn't it,_ she thought as the ground came rushing towards her.

She awoke in the infirmary. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and her fellow fourth-years were standing around the bed looking anxious.

"She's awake!" someone called, and Ginny heard the tell-tale patter of Madam Pomfrey's feet.

The witch's face swam into view. "How do you feel, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny groaned. She felt like she'd been run over by the Hogwarts Express, and said so.

"Not unexpected. You took a nasty blow to the head. Can you remember what happened?"

The images were hazy. "I remember falling to the ground--" But from where? "--the Quidditch Pitch--" Wait, what was she doing in the Quidditch pitch? A game of course, versus Slytherin... "--Malfoy! Malfoy knocked me over! He grabbed me and deliberately knocked me over the railing!"

"Now, Miss Weasley, it was most certainly an accident. I seriously doubt--"

"That's what I saw, too!" exclaimed Colin. "And I caught a picture of it!" He held up his camera.

"We were all there," echoed Ingrid, who was very pale.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "I shall have to speak with the Headmaster. And all of you"--she glared at the Gryffindors--"should leave. Miss Weasley needs rest!"

"But--" started Ron.

"No buts, Mr. Weasley. I understand your concern for your sister, but she had a very nasty fall and needs to sleep! You may visit her after dinner."

They trooped out disconsolately.

"Now, Ginny, I need to ask you a few questions just for your chart," Madam Pomfrey began. "I haven't had you in here since your first year, so I need to create a baseline. First, you are fourteen, correct?"

Ginny nodded.

"Allergic to any particular potions?"

"Well, I'm a Weasley, and apparently there's a thing about dragon's blood-"

"Of course, of course. And you are--ahem--menstruating regularly?"

"Every twenty-nine days."

"Excellent. And when was your last?"

Ginny thought carefully--it had been before Christmas. "It was the Thursday before the last week of term when it ended--so four days before that. December 10th."

"You're running late, then," said Madam Pomfrey absently as she scribbled away. "And--"

"Wait, I'm late? But I'm never late.. I--" Realization sunk in. "Oh, Merlin," she said quietly.

"Miss Weasley, you are not, er, _actively_ involved with anyone, are you?"

"No, I'm not, but--"

"But?"

"But something happened over Christmas, and I could be--I could be--"

"I'll test, dear. It's probably nothing. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

Ginny nodded, fighting back tears.

"Then don't worry. Stress can put any woman off her cycles, as can travel--and you went home for the holidays?"

Ginny nodded, but she knew--she _knew_ it wasn't just stress.

She was pregnant. And with Malfoy's spawn.

She buried her head in her hands.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else came round to see her. Mela, Ingrid, Zoe, and Colin stayed a short while--Colin had developed his picture, which showed Malfoy's face twisted in concentration as he snatched at her, and her puzzled expression as she pitched over the railing. Hermione and Ron left a little while later, holding hands.

_About time_ she thought, relieved.

Harry stayed and sat on the edge of her bed, toying with the flowers Hagrid had brought in earlier. A few earwigs scuttled out, and he brushed them off into the dustbin.

"So how are you doing?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"My headache's almost gone, and Madam Pomfrey says I can leave tomorrow." She thought also of what Madam Pomfrey would know tomorrow, and of the decision she'd have to make.

"That's good." Silence fell again.

"Harry?" she asked after a while.

"Hmm?"

"I need a hug."

She sat up and he put his arms around her obligingly. It felt good, really good, to be holding him again. "I missed this," she said into his shoulderblade.

"Me too," he replied.

"Has Dumbledore been told?" she asked, after they'd separated.

"Yes, I went with Colin to show the picture--I've rarely seen him that mad. He said he'd come around this evening to speak with you--"

"Hello, Harry, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore, who had just appeared at the end of her bed as if summoned. "No, you can stay if you'd like," he said, as Harry got up to leave. "If Miss Weasley would like you to?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, then, Miss Weasley, it seems that Mr. Creevey has a picture of Mr. Malfoy's attack on you."

"You believe us, then?" she said.

"Certainly I do. However," he said, and his expression turned serious, "in these times, it is very difficult to go against certain--ah--_people's_ actions..."

"You mean you're not going to punish him?" exclaimed Harry.

"That's not what I said, Harry. Under normal circumstances Mr. Malfoy would be expelled for attacking another student--and if it had been simply accidental, he would be facing serious detention, possible suspension for the rest of the term. You could have been killed, Miss Weasley. That was a good fifteen feet you fell, and head first."

"So...?"

"As you know, Mr. Malfoy's father holds considerable influence in these times, especially with the Ministry--"

"Fudge," muttered Harry angrily.

"--and if his son were to be expelled, Lucius Malfoy would certainly have something to say about it. In addition"--he held up his hand to stem their angry outbursts--"Malfoy would be sent to another school, where we could not keep as good an eye on him."

Ginny understood, but she wasn't happy about it. "So are you going to do anything?" she asked.

Dumbledore gave her a kind look. "Mr. Malfoy is being taken off his Quidditch team for serious mishandling of his broom. He endangered a student's life, whether it was intentional or not."

"It was," said Harry through clenched teeth.

"I know that, Harry, I know. I wish I could take full action against him, but that is unfortunately impossible."

"That's it?" exclaimed Ginny. "He nearly kills me and he's taken off the Quidditch team?"

"I am so sorry, Miss Weasley, but I simply cannot endanger the current political situation. It's too complicated to explain here," he said, gesturing to the surrounding beds, a few of which held the latest round of flu victims, most of whom were sleeping, "but if you will come to my office tomorrow afternoon, I can try. You have a right to know."

Well, it was a small consolation, but Ginny felt a little better.

"Headmaster?" came Madam Pomfrey's voice.

"Ah, Poppy. I take it I am dismissed?"

"Yes, Headmaster, I must insist--"

"Can I stay for a few more minutes?" asked Harry.

"Please, can he stay?" echoed Ginny.

"Five minutes, no more," said Madam Pomfrey, pursing her lips.

Dumbledore left, and Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office.

"Ginny, I--I want to tell you something before--before I lose my courage--"

"What," she teased, "Harry Potter, the famous Gryffindor, losing his courage?"

"Ginny--"

"What brave thing is this, that the great Potter is afraid?"

"Oh, Ginny--" he said, exasperated but smiling. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, feeling truly happy for the first time in months.

"At least," he amended, "I think I do. I mean, I've never felt like this before--boy, that sounds cheesy--and it's just, I don't know what else to call it--"

Ginny put her hand over his mouth to quiet him. "It's okay," she said.

He took her hand in his and kissed her palm.

Her happiness fled the next morning when Madam Pomfrey came to discuss the results of her test.

"You have several options, child," she said kindly.

"I know my options," said Ginny unhappily. "And I can't simply get rid of it. It's a part of me, now."

"No one will think the worse of you, dear--"

"I know, I know." _And what if it turns out looking like Malfoy?_ she thought with a shudder. "But I couldn't live with myself if I cheated it out of life. It isn't to blame."

Madam Pomfrey nodded briskly. "You have a two choices: do you wish to remain at Hogwarts through the pregnancy? Or you could take the next few terms off and catch up on your own. You're certainly intelligent and driven enough to do so, I understand... "

"I want to stay here." Ginny was not leaving Hogwarts. As much as she loved The Burrow--oh, Merlin, her parents! What would her parents say?

"Well, it's a little unusual, since you're not a graduating student, but not unheard of. We'll see about what to do with the baby when it arrives. Do you know when it was conceived?"

"Christmas," said Ginny in a small voice. Images and sensations came flashing into her mind, and she wanted to scream, to run away, to tell herself it wasn't real-

"Why, child, what's wrong?" asked Madam Pomfrey, seeing Ginny start to cry. "Was the encounter... unpleasant?"

Ginny shook her head, tears dripping down her nose and into her mouth.

"Oh, child," Madam Pomfrey gathered her in her arms. It was almost like being hugged by her mother. Almost. The thought of what her mother might say made her cry even harder.

"Shh, shh," said Madam Pomfrey. "It will be all right, don't worry. Do you want to tell me about it?"

For once, Ginny did. She told how Malfoy--"he" to the mediwitch--had Petrified her first, then softened up parts of her body for access, how he'd entered her forcefully, and how much it hurt, oh god, it hurt so much, and how Harry had had to watch and how ashamed she'd felt, how could she have let this happen to her, why did he have to think she was pretty, why her, it wasn't fair...

She trailed off into incoherent sobs as she finished her story.

"Can you tell me who it was, child?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

Ginny shook her head. "I need to talk to Dumbledore," was all she said.

Madam Pomfrey escorted her up to the Headmaster's office. Ginny carefully kept her eyes to the ground during the trip through the castle. She didn't want anyone to see her face, splotched and swollen, and wonder.

"Well, Ginny, I think you should start at the beginning," said Dumbledore. He set a cup of strong tea in front of her and sat back to listen.

Ginny took a grateful sip and told her story, from the kidnapping to the return to the Burrow, all over again. This time, she could name names. She managed not to cry when she told him that Malfoy had left her a reminder, though she stuttered. Telling of the conversation with Voldemort was tricky. She settled on saying she'd been given a task and could not talk about it.

Dumbledore, however, was not to be deterred. "But can you tell me anything else of the conversation?"

He was good, thought Ginny. Maybe she could get around the Binding, if she went carefully. "Well, he told me how my family through my father's side is pure Hufflepuff, and that Harry is descended from Gryffindor, and of his own relationship to Slytherin. He mentioned powerful magic." There, that worked.

"Ahh, well put, Ginny. Let me guess--he also spoke of a missing person from Ravenclaw?"

Ginny looked at him and swallowed. Experimentally, she tried to nod, but her body wouldn't do it. She settled for not shaking her head. Dumbledore peered at her closely. "Yes, I see. And I have noticed you've been spending some time in the library lately, eh?"

"My own personal project," she found herself saying, but she was staring at him as hard as she could.

"Indeed, indeed," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "And have you had any luck?"

"With what, sir?" _Stupid spell_, she thought. _I sound like an idiot!_

"Are you afraid of being overheard in this office?"

"No, sir."

"But you cannot tell me. Ahh, yes, I understand--the Secret-Binding spell. Fortunately, I have learned to guess well." He looked at her seriously. "Now, as for the other matter."

"Malfoy," whispered Ginny.

"I understand that you and Mr. Potter have become quite close, have you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And were you not together at The Burrow, over the Christmas holidays?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is good news, then. I am sure you understand, Ginny, that bearing a child--Malfoy's child, especially--is a huge risk. Are you absolutely set against terminating it? You realize the kind of world you are bringing it into, and the burden you place upon yourself? If it were not for the simple fact that it is your choice, I almost would--but, I cannot."

"I want to have this child," insisted Ginny. "I know it isn't a smart idea, but something tells me that it's important to let it live. Just a--a gut feeling, if you will."

"Well, then, Ginny, I would advise you to be discreet in your symptoms--please speak to Professor Snape, I will inform him of the situation--and to see Madam Pomfrey every two weeks."

Ginny nodded.

"And I would suggest that you and Mr. Potter become quite an obvious couple, for your own safety."

"Yes, sir."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author Notes:** Find the Sondheim quote if you can! It's from Into the Woods...

**Chapter Fourteen: Time Passes, a Lot of It Spent in the Library, and Hermione is Clever**

Ginny wasn't sure how to deal with her situation. Should she tell Harry that she was carrying a child? He wouldn't have to guess whose it was--the only possibility was Malfoy. And did she need to tell him that for her safety, they needed to pretend that it was his child in case anyone found out?

They were already an obvious couple to those who cared to notice. Little things, like always sitting next to each other at meals, or working together in the common room at night or in the library during the day. It wasn't a matter of running off to snog in empty classrooms, but rather of being close to each other and enjoying the other person's presence.

And Ginny wasn't exactly ready for anything physical yet. The hug in the infirmary didn't count--it was more of a comforting gesture than something to excite her.

She'd visited Professor Snape a few days after the diagnosis, and he'd provided her a package of small vials. "It will calm the inevitable nausea," he said, almost kindly. "I would encourage you to take one each morning, or evening, as you prefer, until it subsides. Come back if you need more."

She'd thanked him, packed the bundle carefully into her bag, and climbed up to the library to do some more research.

The work to find the Heir of Ravenclaw was tedious. First, she was able to eliminate all the Muggle-borns, like Hermione, because there was no chance of old wizarding blood in their veins. But the half-and-halfs, like Seamus, were still possibilities. Out of the three hundred and seventeen students currently Hogwarts, she still had to trace the lines of two hundred and forty-five possible Heirs.

Bother.

She tried tracing Rowena Ravenclaw's lineage, but that became impossible after several generations, because of the tendency of that family to migrate. There was an instance of at least one Ravenclaw relation on the American colonial expeditions, and after finding out that Fiona Dewtree, _née_ Burroughs-Ravenclaw, had run off to join her lover in Marco Polo's expedition to China, Ginny gave up.

So it was back to tracing out current lineages. Why on earth was Voldemort so convinced that the Heir had to be at Hogwarts? And she wasn't even sure exactly how one came about being an heir--the blood had to be diluted, of course, as each person married. What made Harry, Voldemort, and herself so special? Well, Harry was an only child, as Tom Riddle had been. But then how could she be an Heir? She had six brothers...

But no sisters.

Ginny happily eliminated one hundred thirty-seven male students from her list.

Which still left one hundred and eight girls to investigate.

Still, she felt like she was getting close. She had to be. But constant notes of "paternity questioned" in the records meant rummaging up old society columns and gossipy diaries to find out who was having "indecent relationships" with whom. It was difficult work, made even more difficult by having to squeeze it in during Harry's Quidditch practices, which no one expected her to attend after what had happened at the last match.

By Easter, she and Harry were considered an "item"--Colin had caught a snapshot of the two of them kissing in the snow at Hogsmeade, and it had easily found its way out of Gryffindor tower. Ginny had "accidentally" left it in a book on reserve for Charms, so everyone in her class saw it, including the Slytherins... whoops.

She still hadn't told him she was pregnant.

But she had only fifty-one more girls to trace, and two and a half months in which to do it.

The Easter holidays were a nightmare. Not only did she have to try and manage her research in secret, when Harry followed her around like a puppy, but the regular workload from her teachers was immense.

She'd had to write home for some new underclothes--"Oh, that's so wonderful you're growing up," Mrs. Weasley had written back, chatting about Percy's pet cat, and Charlie's latest dragon adventure, and her father's newest Muggle obsession, paper planes.

Ginny wasn't sure which was worse--the mood swings, or the cravings.

"I'm going down to the kitchens," announced Fred late Wednesday night. "Want anything?"

"Eclairs," said Ron, without looking up from the current chess game he was playing with Harry. It seemed Harry had improved a bit over the last four years, and Ron actually had to think during a game.

"Ham sandwich," said Harry.

"I'm fine, thanks," said Hermione. "Ginny?"

What Ginny wanted, more than _anything_ in the world, was greens. Greens, and nothing but greens. Parsley, peppers, cabbages, and celery. Asparagus and watercress and fiddleferns and lettuce...

"Umm... can I have a salad? Lettuce, celery, fiddleferns-"

"Er." Fred looked startled. "Maybe you should come with me, that sounds complicated."

"Sure." Ginny got to her feet. She was starting to feel heavier, which made her feel both pleased and a little scared.

The house-elves were quite eager to please, and she got her salad.

When Ginny returned, munching on a piece of lettuce, Hermione was looking at Ginny in a completely different way. "Ginny?" she asked slowly. Ginny met Hermione's eyes and realized that the cleverest Gryffindor in hundreds of years had once again connected two and two to make four.

Hermione cornered Ginny in her dorm the next morning.

"Ginny!" called Hermione, knocking on the door. "I know your friends went home for the holiday, so let me in!"

Reluctantly, Ginny opened the door. Hermione was standing there in her bathrobe. "Want to come with me to the prefects' bath?" she asked, holding out another fluffy robe. "Come on, we can talk in private."

Ginny sighed and followed her. No time like the present.

The prefects' bathroom was luxurious, done in some sort of spicy wood that was springy under her feet. One complete side was taken up with a large, steaming tub, big enough for at least a dozen girls to sit in without bumping elbows, and on the other side were several partitioned shower cubbies. Ginny peaked into a doorway and saw a traditional bathroom, with toilet and a spacious shower-tub.

Hermione had dropped her bathrobe when the door clicked shut behind them. Ginny averted her eyes, but Hermione just said, "Oh, don't worry, you haven't got anything I haven't got--well, mostly." Ginny stood, undecided for a minute. "Oh, just undress and shower!"

Ginny found her tongue. "Why are there both?"

"You mean, both tub and these showers? It's a Japanese thing--you shower off first, then soak in the tub," she said, pulling out a small stool and turning on a showerhead.

_If she can do it, so can I,_ Ginny shucked off her robe to shower.

The hot tub _was_ luxurious, Ginny thought ten minutes later. She found a conveniently sloped spot and relaxed against it. Although the baby didn't weigh much yet, it was nice to take the weight off.

"You're bulging a little," said Hermione eventually.

"I know," said Ginny. "There's not much to do about it. Magic could really hurt it at this stage. But it's hidden underneath the robes pretty well."

"True." Hermione paused to sink underneath the surface of the water. "Have you told anyone yet?"

"No."

"Not even your mother?"

"She'd freak out."

"I don't think she would," said Hermione, frowning. "She's a pretty strong woman--Dumbledore trusts her."

"True. But I think she'd probably take me out of Hogwarts, and I don't want to be away from here."

"Away from Harry, you mean," said Hermione.

"Well, how would you feel if you were pregnant with Ron's child, and your parents decided that you should leave school?"

"Well, I'd probably want to stay here, near Ron," said Hermione thoughtfully. "But aren't you afraid people will figure it out?"

"Well, Harry and I have been awfully close for a long time now," said Ginny with a slight smile.

"I see. How does he feel about that--oh, that's right, you haven't told him."

"How did you figure it out, anyway?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Well, apart from you wanting that strange salad last night, you glow."

"I do?"

"Yes, rather prettily. Of course, since you're usually around Harry, it looks like you're just in love."

"Good."

"So," Hermione's face turned girlish. "What's it like being pregnant?"

Ginny smiled. "Oh, it's wonderful and horrible at the same time," she began.

Ginny laid down her quill. Had she done it? Really, truly? It looked like it--she'd better check one more time.

Rowena Ravenclaw begat Beatrice Ravenclaw, married Harold Burroughs begat Hildegard Ravenclaw-Burroughs, married Lucas Johnson begat Greta Johnson, married... the names continued over a full roll of parchment, and led directly down to Laura Madley, second-year Hufflepuff.

Ginny groaned. She knew Laura vaguely through Colin's brother Dennis, who partnererd Laura in Herbology. The girl was sweet, biddable: your standard Hufflepuff. She certainly didn't deserve to get mixed up with Voldemort's plans, whatever they were.

Time for more research.

She borrowed Hermione's copy of _Hogwarts: a History_, which was just a shade away from being completely bloody useless. "Magic worked by four Heirs," it read, "will be powerful and very difficult to stop or reverse once completed." So much for that.

But luck was with her. In Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day, Professor Thorens (who wasn't as good as Lupin had been, but not quite as bad as Lockhart--though close in arrogance) mentioned double-wizard curses--performed often by "certain groups in the past"--but abandoned now, because of the power required. Perfect opportunity.

"Professor?" Ginny approached the desk as everyone filed out for lunch.

"Miss Weasley, what can I do for you?" he asked, piling papers.

"I've never read anything about double-wizard curses before, and the theory behind it... I'm confused. Do the wizards need to work completely in tandem, or does one wizard control the other person's power? And how does the spell manage to work with two different wands, since I know that unicorn tail hairs especially can be quite fussy--"

It was a trick she'd learned from Hermione--annoy a teacher just enough with questions to let them refer you to a book so they don't have to deal with you.

"Well, I don't have time now, and I'll be busy preparing exams for the next two weeks--but here's a book I recommend. I think it's in the Restricted Section, so you'll need a note..." He scribbled a quick note and handed it to Ginny.

"Please give Miss Weasley permission to browse the Restricted Section on curses at her leisure. Signed, Professor A. Thorens."

Perfect.

Ginny sent the owl off to Lucius with just a name on it, and was finally able to start revising for her end-of-year exams. But the books on curses she'd found were highly distracting.

She learned that two wizards were four times as powerful as one, and three were nine times, and four were sixteen times as powerful. She learned that one wizard could absorb the power of the others, or they could work together--it only made a slight difference in the channeling. She learned that Voldemort was one of the few wizards who could dominate more than one other wizard, but that he'd commonly used Imperio to manage the spell-casting.

But she didn't find anything about Hogwarts.

Maybe the Secret-Binding had worn off by now? She experimentally tried writing down her findings, but her ink bottle spilled over it (without being knocked at all) before she could write anything interesting. So much for that.

Maybe...

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Miss Weasley, how can I help you?"

It was the night before exams, and everyone was holed up somewhere studying. She decided to wander out and see what she could tell Dumbledore. Harry's map, which he gladly lent to her, showed the Headmaster pacing around the Astronomy Tower. He didn't seem surprised to see her there.

"I--I've come to a bit of a stopping point in my research, sir."

Dumbledore turned around quickly. "I see." He was immediately focused on her, no longer the slightly mad old man. "What can you tell me?"

What could she tell him? Better try. "Hufflepuff, sir."

"What year?"

"Second. Female." What else? "Her father is Muggle-born."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The poor girl."

What else could she say? "Sir, I got a note from Professor Thorens for free use of the restricted section; it was after we discussed double-wizard curses in class."

His head snapped up. "I see."

"Professor? What are you going to do?"

"At the moment, nothing."

"Nothing!"

"Ginny, there is nothing I can do at the moment--I will warn Laura's parents of the danger, advise them to keep her in school; but other than that, there is little I can do before Voldemort makes his strike."

"Do you--do you have any idea what he'll do?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: Nothing Goes As It Should**

Exams went much as they had the last three years--a constant pressure of studying and testing, with little time to spare for anything else. It was a nice change, Ginny thought briefly during the Transfiguration practical, to be able to _do_ magic rather than just _reading_ about it.

After her last exam, History of Magic, Ginny went out to enjoy the afternoon sun. She found Harry by the lake, alone.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" she asked by way of greeting.

"Oh, I dunno... Probably off somewhere together, though."

"How'd your exams today go?"

"Not so bad."

"When do O.W.L.s start?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"You feel ready?"

"I guess."

The conversation was forced, unnatural. "Is something wrong, Harry?" she finally asked.

He sighed. "I just haven't been sleeping."

"Why? Nerves? I know the O.W.L.s are hard, but--"

He shook his head. "Nightmares."

"Have you told Dumbledore?"

"Why would I tell Dumbledore about my nightmares?"

"Er- aren't they usually about Voldemort and Death Eaters?"

"Oh, no, these have nothing to do with all that." Harry reached up and ran a hand through his untidy hair.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Not at the moment." Looking anywhere but her, he found a flat stone to toss at the lake; it went two skips before sinking.

"You know, someone once told me that talking about it makes it feel better."

Harry cracked a wan smile. "I know."

"Then..." Ginny waited.

Harry sighed. "Well, I just have this recurring nightmare--even with Dreamless Sleep Potion--about you."

"Me?"

Harry seemed embarrassed and reluctant to talk. "It's not anything you'd want to know, really."

"If you insist." Ginny tossed a pebble of her own at the lake surface; it skipped three times.

He sighed again. "It always starts out the same way--we're somewhere up on a high tower, and there's this strong, well, _smell_, of magic. Then you're screaming in pain, clutching at your--your stomach, and there's a lot of blood... It's never a very long nightmare, but it's scary," he ended softly. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

Ginny shivered, but not because of the light breeze.

"Harry," she said slowly, "how do you do in Divination?"

"Huh? You know I hate that class. Why do you ask?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I--I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"Shh! Not so loud!" Ginny glanced around, but everyone else was on the other side of the lake, out of earshot.

"Wait--you--you're... Oh, my god... that means ... Malfoy?"

"Yes."

Harry said obviously the first thing he thought. "Why are you keeping it?" Then he covered his mouth, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, that came out completely wrong-"

Ginny waved him silent. "Don't worry. I don't know why. I know I should just--just terminate it, it would make my life a whole lot easier. Plus, who knows if it'll come out looking like Malfoy? Yech. But--but I can't. It just feels wrong, somehow. I can't really explain it," she ended miserably.

Ginny couldn't read the expression on Harry's face. It was a mixture of shock, anger, love, worry, and a bunch of other emotions all jumbled into one. He stared out at the lake and tossed another stone in. It fell without skipping.

"Are you--are you angry at me?" Ginny asked softly.

Harry shook his head, but his mouth was pressed in a thin line.

"Say something," she whispered desperately.

"I don't know what to say," he said. "I wish you'd told me earlier, trusted me with it--who else knows?"

"Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Snape. He made some potions to keep my symptoms down," she added, a little defensively. "And Hermione figured it out, of course."

"And you didn't tell _me?_" he asked, sounding hurt.

"I was worried you'd be angry," she whispered. She felt like adding _I guess I was right,_ but didn't.

Harry seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle. "Look," he said, closing his eyes, "I know I should be really supportive of you right now, and I know that you're going to need a lot of help when--when the baby comes, but--but I just can't deal with this right now." His tone became slightly angry. "There's a war going on out there, Ginny, and I'm going to be a part of it whether I like it or not."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but he barrelled on. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now! When we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, it was easy enough. But when you're _pregnant,_ and it isn't even _mine--_" He broke off.

"What?" she asked, barely audible. What did he mean, _When we _were_ just boyfriend and girlfriend..._

"I can't deal with this right now," he said softly. "I need some space. Just for a while, okay?" He got up and left.

Ginny indulged herself in a short spate of tears before swallowing, drying her eyes, and heading up to the Owlery to write a letter to her parents.

__

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm pregnant. I should have told you earlier, but I was scared of what would happen. Just so you know, it isn't Harry's--it's Malfoy's. From Christmas.

I told Harry today, but I think he's broken up with me.

Love,

Ginny.

There was no point in being flowery or nice about it. Maybe she would drop out of Hogwarts for a while after it was born. Maybe she'd just go throw herself in the lake-- No. Stop it, she told herself firmly.

She tied the letter to the school owl's leg, and it flapped away into the gathering darkness.

Ginny avoided the Great Hall the next morning. She didn't want to see Harry, especially since her bulge was becoming more and more obvious, even under the voluminous folds of her Hogwarts robes.

But Hermes, Percy's owl, still found her.

__

Dear Ginny,

How are you? I'm doing well here. The extra money I made over the Christmas holidays is letting me take a brief vacation next week. I know you have one more week of school left, but I also know that you've finshed exams and classes. I'll be at Hogwarts around lunchtime. Meet me in the Great Hall.

Also, Lucius Malfoy wanted me to thank you for the research you helped him with. He didn't tell me what it was about, but it sounded quite important. He said that it would 'change the way the wizarding world worked.' I hope he's right--we need change!

Much love,

Percy.

Things were getting worse and worse, Ginny thought.

At lunchtime, she made her way down to the entrance hall. Fortunately, everyone was already at the tables, so she didn't have to see Harry.

"Percy!"

"Ginny! It's good to see you," said Percy, hugging her--a little stiffly, she thought.

"You too," she replied.

"So, how have you been?" he asked, leading her outside. "Shall we go to Hogsmeade for lunch?"

Percy treated her to lunch at the Three Broomsticks. They chatted of nothing important--exams, upcoming O.W.L.s, and so forth.

They spent a fairly companionable afternoon in Honeydukes, Gambol and Japes, and the bookstore.

"It's getting late," Percy said eventually, gesturing to the west. "We should get back to school before dark."

Their conversation had steered towards romance.

"When Penelope and I became seriously involved, I initially had some trouble with my grades," Percy was saying as they climbed some stairs. "But she was understanding about me needing time. Let me know if Harry's not giving you your space," he added, sounding so big-brotherly she wanted to cry. But telling him about her current problems was probably not a good idea, considering how close he was to Fudge--and Lucius Malfoy.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she was caught off guard when, somewhere near the Astronomy Tower, Percy turned to her.

_"Stupefy!"_

She woke with a start. Lucius Malfoy was standing over her, holding a battered piece of parchment. Where was Percy? And how had she gotten all the way up to the top of the Astronomy Tower? She shivered in the cold.

"It appears," he said softly, menacingly, "that I am to be a grandfather."

Ginny gasped. "How did you get--"

"All correspondence to and from Ministry officials is closely monitored for--ah--_suspicious activity_," Malfoy said. "Answer me, girl!"

Ginny swallowed. "I don't have anything to say," she said.

"How did this happen!" he hissed. "Has my son been sneaking around with a Gryffindor? Has he been--"

"We've been engaged since February," she interrupted sarcastically. "How do you _think_ it happened?"

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, Weasley," he spat, waving his wand. "Tell me!"

"Your son raped me," Ginny said flatly.

"How dare he!" he hissed. "How could he be so careless? Malfoy seed is valuable, not to be wasted on filthy Muggle-lovers. Every offspring is carefully concieved for the best genetic combination. Draco should know better. This is just carelessness. I've _told_ him what to do to prevent this from happening! Never mind, though," he said, breaking off his tirade and turning back to Ginny. "I can take care of it right here, right now."

Time skidded almost to a halt as he opened his mouth. _"Abort-"_ he began, but out of the darkness surrounding them, a familiar voice cried, _"Stupefy!"_ and Malfoy crumpled into a heap.

"Harry!" Ginny shrieked as he came pelting out at her. "Oh, God, he was going to--"

"Shh, shh, I know, it's all right," said Harry, holding her close. "It's okay. Everything's going to be-" He broke off, looking around anxiously.

"I heard it, too," Ginny said, looking around for the source of the noise. It had sounded like a whimper, a child's whimper. They crouched behind a dark outcropping, watching the entrance hole to the top of the tower.

They had only waited a few moments when a small figure emerged from the opening. It was no one Ginny immediately recognized, but then a gleam of moonlight exposed the tearful face.

Laura Madley, second-year Hufflepuff.

She was crying and clutching a letter to her chest. But it wasn't the fierce cry of someone grief-stricken, or the sobbing of a helpless person. It was almost as thought she didn't even realize she was crying, but was simply expressing an ever-present emotion.

The girl walked slowly and deliberately over to one of the observation posts, a stone outcropping that leaned over the grounds. The accompanying monologue was barely audible, but fierce.

"I won't. I won't let them do this. They say I don't have a choice, but I do. I have _this_ choice--"

Ginny was on her feet too late; the heaviness in her belly slowing her down, but, fortunately, Harry's reflexes were faster. He dived for the girl and tackled her before she could step off the edge.

"What in blazes d'you think you're doing?" he asked her. "And who are you?"

Poor Laura just wailed, collapsing into Harry's arms. Harry looked at Ginny. "What do I do now?" he asked desperately.

"Her name's Laura Madley," Ginny said. "She's--"

But exactly what she was, Ginny was never able to say.

"Well, well, well, isn't this cozy?"

Lord Voldemort had appeared in front of them.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen: Everything Comes Out**

Ginny didn't bother wondering how Voldemort had managed to get in past the Anti-Apparition barrier.

_"Stupefy!"_ she shouted.

Voldemort laughed that high, cold laugh as her spell hit him and vanished. "It is not as easy as that, Weasley," he said. _"Crucio!"_

Ginny shrieked and fell hard on the stones.

"Stop it!" yelled Harry. "Stop it now!" he demanded, pointing his wand at the imposing wizard.

Voldemort broke the curse and turned to Harry. Ropes shot out of the end of his wand to bind Harry. He turned to the two girls and did the same.

"I do not need your physical cooperation in this," he said, picking up their wands. Ginny's he retrieved from Malfoy's robes. He turned back to them.

"Ginny Weasley," said Voldemort softly. "So impressionable--so wonderful to work with."

"What do you mean?" cried Harry.

"Your dear _friend_ has been helping me with a little bit of research for my latest project. She's very efficient; she found the person I needed much more quickly than I was expecting."

"What did you do to her? How did you make her cooperate?"

Ginny silently wished herself into a hole. The last six months of hard work seemed so far away, so vague and veiled. Suddenly her motives didn't make sense--why hadn't she done more to prevent it? Why had she cooperated?

"What did _I_ do to _her?_" Voldemort was saying. "It isn't what _I_ did to _her,_ Harry Potter, but what _she_ did to _me._ Yes, Ginny Weasley," he continued. "Your life-force once brought me back to life; I know about the diary. You can't help but cooperate with me. _You're a part of me,_" he said, in a deadly whisper.

"And now," he continued in a more normal voice, "I will explain what we are doing tonight."

_Where's Dumbledore?_ Ginny thought wildly. _Why haven't teachers come swarming up to see what's going on?_

She listened with half an ear as Lord Voldemort explained the magic of the Four Founders. It was the same speech he'd given her over tea so long ago. She focused on trying to think of a way out of their situation, but most of the possible solutions involved having her wand, and that wasn't available. She couldn't move anywhere--not even wriggle, because of the way the ropes were tied.

She heard Laura whimpering as Voldemort explained how she was the Heir of Ravenclaw.

"And I must thank Harry Potter here for preventing the failure of tonight's work," he was saying. "For if young Laura had managed to commit suicide, this would not be possible." Voldemort drew his wand and held out their three in his other hand. "You have two choices, my young friends, when I give you back your wands. First, you can cooperate with this work--it will go much more quickly and I might perhaps let you live afterwards." He laughed. "The other choice is for me to put all of you under _Imperio,_ but that would result in a far inferior working. In addition, you'll probably lose your minds during the spell. Choose!"

Ginny thought hard, and could hear Harry beside her muttering under his breath. She knew he could resist the Imperius Curse, and Voldemort knew it, too. But she also knew a bit more than Harry about multiple-wizard workings, and knew that it was a very different form of Imperius that was used--a very old, almost lost, variant which, once the spell was started, had never in history been thrown off.

"I'll never cooperate with you," came a little voice. She'd almost forgotten about Laura.

"Nor will I," said Harry fiercely.

"That will not be a problem," said Voldemort. "And you, Ginny Weasley?"

Ginny took a deep breath. She knew it would be the right thing to do to not go willingly; then she could say truthfully that it had not been by choice. But if it ever came to that--if they got out of this alive, even!--she would probably already be sent to Azkaban for even doing his stupid research. What was one more thing?

"I'll do it," she said. Harry sputtered. "I'll already be in trouble for starting this whole thing," she said flatly.

Voldemort smiled and handed her back her wand. _"Imperio Omnis!"_ he intoned, and Harry and Laura both went slightly limp. Voldemort handed them their wands, and they waited placidly.

"By the blood of Salazar Slytherin," he began.

"By the blood of Helga Hufflepuff," Ginny said.

"By the blood of Godric Gryffindor," came Harry's voice, distant and strange.

"By the blood of Rowena Ravenclaw," Laura finished.

"We call on the power given us by our forebearers."

A powerful wind nearly swept Ginny off her feet, and she felt the tingling of old magic down her back.

She could see Hogwarts' fundamental magic, a gauzy film over the dark turret, surrounding her in colorful swirls of distinctive power. She saw the quietness of Hufflepuff, the twisting wiles of Slytherin, the rashness and pure strength of Gryffindor, and the solid intelligence of Ravenclaw. Only now they were Helga, Salazar, Godric, and Rowena, close friends, family, welcoming. Pulled by Lord Voldemort's will, the four of them threaded their way through the enchantments holding the castle together. Centuries of use had worn down the physical foundations--without these bindings, the castle would fall into the ruin the Muggles perceived it to be. Starting from the top down, Voldemort began unknotting and shredding the spells.

Ginny felt Harry trying to fight it. But this was no standard Imperius Curse; his very blood was cooperating. He was a part of the castle, and as Dumbledore had said at the very beginning of the school year, "Hogwarts cannot protect you from its own."

Her outside ears heard a loud crash as North Tower fell. Ginny suffered a brief pang of grief for Professor Trelawney, but then was distracted as Voldemort pulled at Gryffindor Tower. All her friends, her brothers, were inside. She sobbed, wishing yet again that she'd never gotten involved.

Then there was something else--another force, awakened, powerful, angry. Where was it coming from?

"Who is this?" Voldemort shouted over the din. "How did they get in here?" He turned away for a moment from his destructive path to send a random curse towards the new power.

Ginny heard herself scream as a great pain ripped through her. The baby! He was tearing at its newly awakened force, trying to squeeze life from it, trying to wrench it out of their working. But the child would not leave the circle. By being a part of her, it could not leave.

Ginny was struck with an idea.

She wrenched the child's power into her own--

**A--**

The beam from her wand changed direction, changed color--

**va--**

Along her path, she swept up Harry into the drive--

**da--**

He was a part of her, their mutual life-debt stronger than Voldemort--

**Ke--**

but Laura was physically seized by Voldemort, pushed in front of him--

**da--**

Ginny couldn't stop--

**vra!**

There was a high shriek, and Voldemort disappeared into the darkness.

Ginny fell to the stones heavily, her womb rippling in pain. "Harry," she moaned. "Help me..."

Harry rushed over. "What is it?"

"The baby--"

"Oh, my god, you're bleeding--"

"Where's Laura? What happened to Voldemort?"

"I think--I think we killed her..."

Ginny moaned, in pain and sorrow.

"There's nothing we can do now, Ginny. Voldemort's gone--I don't know what happened. But we need to get you to the hospital wing. Can you walk?"

Ginny shook her head, and Harry picked her up and carried her to the tower door. Somewhere along the way other people joined them, words of worry and hope and comfort on their lips. But she couldn't tell who; everything was blurry.

Most of her consciousness was on the child. It had been awakened by the powerful magic they had been working. It lashed out now, angry and violent. She was dimly aware of various objects, mostly windows, exploding around her as she was carried through the school.

Gentle hands placed her on a bed. Harry was explaining to the gathered teachers what had happened, but all she could feel was the raw power from the child.

"Drink," said a quiet voice, holding a phial up to her lips. It was cool and sweet, and her consciousness settled slightly.

"He's angry," she whispered to Professor Snape when she recognized him. "He wants to go back to sleep."

"Shh, child," said Madam Pomfrey. "You're going to be fine."

Ginny screamed as a contraction rippled across her womb.

"Is there nothing to do, Poppy?" asked Snape in a quiet voice.

"I'm afraid not," said Madam Pomfrey, almost whispering. "If the child comes out, it comes out. We do what we can."

Ginny screamed again. _Shh, shh,_ she said to the angry little thing. _Go back to sleep._

But it struck out at her, and she felt another contraction ripple across.

"It's coming out," said Madam Pomfrey.

"That's mine!" shouted a new voice. Lucius Malfoy, short of breath, came running into the Infirmary. Ginny's letter was still clutched in his hand. "The little brat is my grandchild!"

"Please, Mr. Malfoy, this is a hospital!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "You can't just--"

"I can do anything I please," said Mr. Malfoy. "Get out of the way, Severus!"

Professor Snape had interposed himself between Malfoy and Ginny.

"Give the girl some room, Lucius," said Snape, struggling to hold him back. "We will deal with it when the child is born--"

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry angrily.

Malfoy fell.

"Thank you, Harry," said Snape, with genuine gratitude. He grabbed Malfoy by his feet and dragged him into Madam Pomfrey's office, locking the door as he returned.

Ginny fainted with pain and anguish.

She woke in the Hospital Wing to the noise of lots of people trying to be very quiet.

"Can we see her?" Ron.

"Please, we'd like to see if she's all right." Hermione.

"That's my daughter in there!" Her father.

There was the sound of footsteps, and the curtains around her bed were parted to reveal a small army of redheads, plus one bushy-haired girl and a black-haired boy with worried green eyes.

For a moment no one said anything, then her mother, who had tears in her eyes, grabbed Ginny and held her tightly.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said, crying. "I should have told you earlier, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Shh, shh," said her mother comfortingly. She patted Ginny's hair. "It's all right."

"Where is it?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, Ginny," said her mother sadly. "It was--it was stillborn. Madam Pomfrey had to do a Muggle Caesarian, since she couldn't Apparate it out--"

A powerful wave of sadness swept over her. She gasped, feeling desperately empty and alone. She felt like throwing up, but her stomach, apart from feeling like it had no muscles, was empty. Her breath came in gasps, short and shallow.

For six months she'd had a little new person inside her, keeping her company, making her sick, but always there. A high, keening noise escaped her as she rocked back and forth.

"It's going to be all right," someone said. Hands held her; people clustered all around her, their presence warm and comforting.

She calmed down enough to ask about Laura.

"Professor Sprout is with her parents," said Harry gently. "I know how you feel."

Harry did know how she felt, she realized. He'd been through the same thing, almost. "And Percy?" she asked.

"I'm here, Ginny," said Percy very quietly. "I don't know where I've been for the past year, but I'm here now." She looked at him quizzically. "It's a long story," he sighed.

Her brothers--all six of them--clustered around the bed, looking worried. Fred and George were uncommonly quiet.

"What, no toilet seats?" she asked half-jokingly.

They grinned briefly.

"We're just amazed that you didn't come to us for help," Fred said.

"Yeah, you know we would have clobbered Malfoy for knocking up our little sister," George said, cracking his knuckles.

"None of that, boys," said Mr. Weasley. "Ginny, there are legal routes that can be taken against Draco Malfoy. When you and Harry were kidnapped, we'd had no proof, only your word, so we couldn't ask for an investigation. But now, if you'd like--"

Ginny shook her head. "I just want to forget about this."

Harry placed a hand over hers. "I'm here for you," he said, kissing her on the cheek. There was a chorus of sighs and sniggers from the surrounding redheads as Harry held Ginny tightly.

"That's enough, you two," said Mrs. Weasley, gently pulling Harry off of her daughter. "I'm sure Ginny needs to rest."

"No, I want to know what's happened--where's Dumbledore? And all the teachers? What happened?"

Her family and friends started telling her, in bits and pieces, and she finally got the whole story.

Lucius Malfoy had indeed intercepted Ginny's letter home. But him meeting her at the Tower, though not an original part of what seemed to be Voldemort's plan, had in fact fitted in well.

Percy, who had been under a milder form of Imperius--suggestive, but not commanding, he explained--had been told to get Ginny up to the Astronomy Tower at sunset. Malfoy intercepted them, made Percy stun Ginny, and had taken advantage of being there a little early to take care of a the matter of Ginny's baby.

Draco Malfoy had started a fight with Harry and made him worry about Ginny, so he'd looked her up on the map to find out where she was, and had come up to the Tower just in time to stop Malfoy.

Laura Madley had received a letter late in the afternoon telling her that she would take part in a grand Dark ceremony. If she refused, her parents would be killed. So she had come up to the tower to escape her summons the only way she knew.

But, separate as all these events seemed, they had fit perfectly into Voldemort's plans. He was a shrewd judge of character, Ginny knew. Quite possibly he'd known that Laura would rather commit suicide than be a part of the spell.

Voldemort had been let into the castle by Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy, who were currently being questioned by Aurors in Dumbledore's office.

And Voldemort had arrived at the Astronomy Tower at the perfect time.

Meanwhile, when the wards, set by none other than Bill Weasley ("Dumbledore knew something was coming," Bill said, "just not exactly what, and not exactly when"), registered Voldemort's presence, Dumbledore had herded all the students into the Great Hall while the castle was searched. Because the Great Hall was still standing without the help of magic, it hadn't even been in danger during the work. And, because the spell had only been in place for a short time, only North Tower and Gryffindor Tower had been destroyed.

No one knew exactly what had happened to Voldemort. Harry thought that he'd vanished, just like the night his parents were killed. Ginny wasn't so sure of it. Laura had been the one hit by the curse, not Voldemort. Ginny suspected that he'd Apparated out while the wards were all in a shambles.

Hermione tutted about _Hogwarts, A History,_ but Ginny stuck to her hunch.

"Well, we'll see eventually if he resurfaces," her father said.

Ginny remembered something. "Dad," she said, "Malfoy mentioned that all the mail to Ministry officials was being intercepted. Was that why you were so worried about Fudge earlier this year?"

Mr. Weasley nodded. "I knew that my letters were being tampered with, both incoming and outgoing. But there was more than that. What I was really worried about was my office being searched. There's a new Public Information Act, which gives Fudge the right to search any Ministry office that he has reasonble suspicions about. It was passed because of worry over Voldemort's spies, but it gave too much power to the wrong man." He sighed. "Hopefully, that's all in the past."

Madam Pomfrey stuck her head around the curtains. "Professor Dumbledore is here to see you, Miss Weasley. I'm sorry, but the rest of you will need to leave."

With a chorus of good-byes, her family left, promising they'd be back soon.

Albus Dumbledore entered, looking grave. Behind him came Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, and Alastor Moody.

"Well, girl," said Moody. "There's a lot to talk about, isn't there?"

Fudge wanted to hold a formal investigation into Ginny's use of the Killing Curse. Fortunately, though, both Cho and Malfoy confessed to having let Voldemort into the castle, so Fudge had to let it go.

"But, I mean, Albus, that girl--what's-her-name, Laura--she's dead!" he exclaimed.

Dumbledore gave Fudge a piercing look and the man quailed slightly, but continued, "I'm sorry, Albus, but I really don't like this. It was an Unforgivable Curse, there's no doubt about it. No, no, I don't like this at all."

Ginny had had enough of Fudge's incompetence. "Do you like the fact that Draco Malfoy raped me? That I gave birth at _fourteen_ to a stillborn, premature baby because of all this? Do you like that I had to do research for Voldemort because of a little black book that Mr. Malfoy--" Malfoy's lips tightened, but he kept an expressionless face "--dropped in my cauldron my first year? Do you?"

"That's enough, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore sharply. Ginny fell silent. "There are a lot of crimes here that have gone unpunished--Draco Malfoy's two attacks on her--"

"Two?" said Fudge.

"He--" Ginny began, but Dumbledore waved her silent.

"Draco Malfoy knocked Miss Weasley out of the Quidditch stands, causing her to fall fifteen feet onto her head. She nearly died," Dumbledore explained. "The only punishment was Draco's removal from the Quidditch team."

"I explained that that was an accident," said Lucius Malfoy smoothly. "Draco had a new broom that he hadn't flown in a match yet. It was quite irresponsible of him, but it was completely accidental, I assure you."

"See, Albus, it's--"

Dumbledore made another gesture of impatience. Ginny had never seen him so worked up before. "All I am saying, Cornelius, is that Miss Weasley's claims against Draco Malfoy have not been brought properly to justice."

"Your problem, Cornelius," Moody interrupted gruffly, "is that you never look further than the next opportunity to increase your popularity. But we're getting off the subject here," he said. "The question we need to address is: Should we punish young Ginny here for _single-handedly_ foiling an attack on the school? I think not."

Put that way, Fudge had no choice but to agree, and left, muttering darkly. Lucius Malfoy shot Ginny a contemptuous glare, and swept out after him.

"Well, girl, if I were minister, I'd give you the Order of Merlin, Second Class at least. But what a price!" Moody sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, girl, terribly sorry. You've got a good family, though, and they'll take care of you. Don't ever doubt it. Your father, especially--you're his little girl, his only girl. He'll watch out for you."

Ginny blushed and thanked him.

After a few more words with Professor Dumbledore, she was finally left alone. Madam Pomfrey bustled in with a dose of Dreamless Sleep, and Ginny fell into blissful darkness.

For days the school was buzzing with excitement. The various versions of what had happened--a lot of it speculation by the ghosts and portraits, who had felt the surging magic--circulated wildly. Some of them were completely off the mark--such as the story that Harry had fallen for Laura, and Ginny had killed her in spite, and taken out the two towers just for fun. Some of them came awfully close to the truth, especially those of people who knew that Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy had been expelled for helping an intruder to enter the castle.

The story about Cho and Malfoy took a while to surface. Ginny could understand Draco Malfoy wanting to let Lord Voldemort into the castle--not only would he be able to do something hideous, he'd be put into favor with his Dark Lord. But Cho Chang had never before been suspected of even sympathising with the Death Eaters.

Then Hermione asked around her Arithmancy classmates. It turned out that Cho had figured out Ginny's pregnancy--a lot of the school had, actually--and had thought it was Harry's child. It wasn't surprising, since that's exactly what Ginny had been trying to do. But, unwittingly, Ginny had helped along another part of Voldemort's plan.

Laura's parents came and heard Ginny's story. They didn't weep, but Mrs. Madley understood Ginny's own personal grief--she'd almost lost Laura to a similar fate. "At least it was with reason," said Mr. Madley quietly before they left.

The Malfoy family silently disappeared after Draco's expulsion. Fudge blustered and blew, but couldn't do anything when Malfoy Manor was searched under "reasonable suspicion." It was found to contain a large collection of illegal Dark objects, and Lucius Malfoy, already in disfavor with most of the Ministry, contributions-to-St.-Mungo's-be-damned, was declared a fugitive on the run, awaiting trial if he ever returned to Britain.

A few days after the attack, Harry's scar exploded in pain. "So he's still out there," Harry said when he told Ginny what he'd seen. "Not even harmed, though it looks like he's lost some followers."

Harry and Ginny had patched things up, mostly. Ginny felt Harry was right to be upset at her over the pregnancy, and he admitted that he still was.

"But," he said, kissing her neck gently one afternoon by the lake, "you've been through way too much for me to stay angry with you very long. And"--he looked at her lovingly as he spoke tentatively--"maybe, in a few years, when you're ready, I can replace some of those bad memories that Malfoy left?"

Ginny bit her lower lip, then smiled. "I'd be glad of that," she said. "When I'm ready."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their OWLs; Fred and George stumbled through their NEWTs. Charlie decided he'd stay in England for a while ("I haven't really met the Welsh Greens," he said with a wink, but Ginny knew he was staying for her.) Bill and Fleur left for France for the summer to muster up support in Europe against Voldemort.

Ginny and Bill got to talk once before he left. Bill apologized for the Obliviate, which Ginny vaguely remembered.

"I'll forgive you if you tell me everything that you erased!" Ginny exclaimed, only halfway angry.

Bill chuckled. "Let me explain from the beginning. Dumbledore's trying to get as many avenues of support as he can. First, Europe has ignored Voldemort for too long. The Malfoys are supposedly hiding somewhere near Russia, and where they go, the Dark Arts are not too far behind. So Fleur and I will be visiting some European Ministries to gather support for England. Rather like what Hagrid and Madame Maxime have done with the giants.

"Secondly, Dumbledore wants to tap Muggle technology to try and fight Voldemort when the time comes. So Dad gets to tinker legally--he's quite happy about that, but not about the potential for destruction that he's uncovered.

"We're going to have a civil war on our hands, since Fudge is still in office. He'll never admit to being hoodwinked by that--that slippery-tongued devil. He'd rather let the blame fall on Malfoy than have his position threatened. It won't be too long now before people divide up. I think, though, that Dumbledore has a strong following, and we won't have a long fight.

"I have to apologize to you," Bill said, suddenly serious. "I knew you were pregnant when I did the wards. Dumbledore told me--I needed to know that so he could be alerted to exactly where you were." He spoke in a rush. "I set the wards to awaken the child."

"You _what_!"

"I set the wards--"

"I heard that! Why did you do it? If that hadn't happened--"

"Ginny, the plan was only to distract Voldemort with something unexpected! There were a whole bunch of us in Hogsmeade, waiting to fly up to the castle to save you three from whatever spell he was using. But you and Harry managed it well all on your own. I didn't know what it would do to the child, honestly. I'm sorry."

Ginny sat still for a minute. It was true that she wished she'd been able to carry the child to term. But, all things considered, it would have been hard to raise it, even with her mother's help. And if she hadn't had the extra burst of power from the baby, she couldn't have stopped Voldemort.

"You're forgiven," she finally said quietly.

Bill left, promising to write often.

Ginny sighed sadly. She supposed they'd done the right thing. Voldemort wasn't dead, wasn't even defeated, but he had definitely been delayed, and that was worth something.

_fin_

**Author Notes**: I've been planning to write a sequel to this for a while, but it's low on my list of priorities. Meanwhile, take a look at my other stories!


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